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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644330">Frostbitten</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzykinz/pseuds/Izzykinz'>Izzykinz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hedone High</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Bodyguard Romance, Fluff, Found Family, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), The softest of soft fantasy, shameless romanticization of the monarchy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:00:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzykinz/pseuds/Izzykinz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the surviving heir to the throne turns seventeen, the assassination attempts begin. In order to survive until his coronation on his eighteenth birthday, he enlists a bodyguard chosen through trial of combat. As the coronation draws near, and the attacks continue, the prince and his bodyguard are drawn into a political tangle to identify the source. And tangle up in each other on the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Izm Tanner/A.E.D</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Risk Assessment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Somewhere mid hell year, Darqx came up with the concept of .D as Izm's bodyguard in a lovely soft mess of indulgent tropes. I wrote one short to go along with the idea, because I thought it was cute. And then another. And then I had a twenty part monster. </p><p>This is indulgence for the purposes of getting through 2020. Plot is thin on the ground in favor of character development and slow burn. This was not conceived as a full start to finish story, and is posted in the state and order in which I wrote the pieces. Including shitty titles. </p><p>On the off chance that you like this and want more, go tell Darqx to release the official Hedone High plot line to my wife and I so we can write the novelization.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What do you think you’re doing?” </p><p>.D’s heart was still pounding, his hands were full of the prince’s clothes, and he was staring into a familiar grinning face. </p><p>“Wow, I can’t believe you jumped the fence!” Izm was flushed with excitement. His hair was a mess from the wild chase, but his eyes were shining like crouching in the damp undergrowth outside the palace walls with .D was the only place he wanted to be. “You don’t look like the nimble type, but feel free to keep surprising me.” </p><p>Like Izm was the one surprised. .D had caught just a flash of what appeared to be an intruder fleeing from Izm’s quarters and given chase. Only when he had the boy in his hands did he realize his mistake. But his question still stood. “What are you doing, running away like a common thief?”</p><p>“I’m sneaking out, obviously,” Izm said with a careless shrug of his shoulders. As if he was just going on a walk around the garden. Gone were the crimson velvets and charcoal silks, the gem encrusted circlet, he was dressed simply and loosely in spun linens. The vest was laced tight to his chest, the end of the leather cord torn, and a simple workman’s knife hung at his side over dust covered breeches. No wonder .D had mistaken him for an intruder. </p><p>“With all do respect, your highness,” .D’s tone held very little, disliking the carefree attitude Izm was taking. “I am here to protect you due to the recent threat against your life. Do you truly think this is the wisest--” </p><p>.D swallowed his words as Izm clapped a hand over his mouth. The boy’s face was uncharacteristically serious, and he was dead quiet as they listened to the crunch of boots on crushed stone pass the bushes they were hiding in. .D breathed slowly, examining the bands on Izm’s fingers where he’d removed the rings that normally decorated them.</p><p>Finally Izm released him, but stayed put at his shoulder. “I’ve been doing this for like ten years. The guard rotation is pretty easy to memorize. Oh, maybe you should put that in your safety assessment, hm? Anyway, sorry, but you almost got me caught. I hate having to do this all over again.”</p><p>Izm half stood, brushing off the knees of his breeches. .D grabbed his wrist and dragged him back down, twigs snagging in his hair. “Oh no you don’t. Your highness, this is terribly unsafe. Please let me escort you back to your room.”</p><p>“No,” Izm replied with the tone of someone who was used to being obeyed. “But I will allow you to escort me into the city. Which, let me remind you, is not where a would be assassin would expect me. Let’s be real, they expect me to be in my quarters. Not playing cards and throwing one back at the local tavern.”</p><p>“Please tell me you have not been endangering yourself for something so trivial,” .D frowned.</p><p>“Of course I have. If I didn’t I’d suffocate!” Izm’s voice rose louder than the frantic whisper they’d been sharing. He turned away from .D and turned back with his finger in front of his mouth. They waited in silence, their argument hanging between them as the night watch did their rounds.</p><p>During his short tenure as the prince’s bodyguard, .D had found Izm to be stubborn and challenging, as well as clever and quick tongued.  He was always trying to be one step ahead of anyone he was speaking to, which worked well for statecraft, but made talking reason into him nearly impossible. </p><p>“Anyway, I’m not in any danger, really. No one recognizes me like this, they expect someone shiny and powdered and covered in gold. Not this,” Izm gestured at himself and .D had to admit he’d done a good job as far as the disguise was concerned. He wouldn’t look twice at this figure on the streets, and he doubted many people were looking that deep into his eyes to admire their brilliant color. </p><p>“Still, the risk…”</p><p>“Would be completely mitigated if you came with me, right? Easier to bodyguard me right at my side, eh?” Izm tugged on .D’s sleeve imploringly. “Nowhere safer in the world than right next to you~” </p><p>“At this point I’m considering having you locked up just to keep you in one place,” .D growled. “But I’m sure you’d find a way to cause trouble behind bars as well. Fine. But if <i>anything</i> happens, you are banned from these outings.”</p><p>“Oh man, with you as the enforcer? Threaten me with a good time~”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. All I Need</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Izm was beginning to think he was bad at giving gifts.</p>
<p>That part had always been easy. He bargained with the council that decided how much coin he had access to before his coronation, painstakingly decided the smallest details, and presented the item with flourish. That generally worked. Plying someone with gifts and rare delicacies and attention was a tried and true method.</p>
<p>He had really outdone himself with .D’s first gift. The dagger was damascus steel, a gorgeous display of craftsmanship, metal folded over and over into a swirl of multi colored layers as beautiful as it was deadly. The scabbard was tooled leather stained to match all of .D’s current weaponry. </p>
<p>An attempt on his life, while unexpected, had presented the perfect opportunity to pass on his gratitude. .D looked at him like he was crazy. </p>
<p>Once Izm assured him that yes, he really did want .D to have the dagger, he expected...something. But .D took the dagger with a quiet grace, turned it over in his hands a few times and then gave him that same half bow that he greeted Izm with in court. </p>
<p>Izm’s stomach had clenched harder than when he’d faced mortality at the end of a crossbow earlier that week. </p>
<p>At least .D carried it with him. Izm tracked the black leather corded hilt along .D’s hip as he checked the perimeter of his room. It was just brunch, but the fact that his room had several tall open windows made him vulnerable. He never really felt vulnerable, not before calling .D or after he arrived. Maybe the threat to his life had never sunk in. He’d almost died several times as a child, usually from his own recklessness, so this was just a more formal version.</p>
<p>“You’re staring,” His brunch guest clicked his tongue. </p>
<p>Izm ripped his gaze from .D. It had moved from his dagger to his face, which was just all around pleasant to look at. “Hard not to~”</p>
<p>Ren rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the pitcher of brightly colored drink. He took Izm’s glass from in front of him and poured the fruity drink halfway into both their flukes. “Needy.” </p>
<p>“I’ve been accused before,” Izm grinned, but his smile fell slightly as Ren rolled out his implements from the cloth that wrapped them all to his belt. This part did make him feel vulnerable. “I’m just thinking, is all.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Ren let out a surprised whistle. He pulled out an assortment of implements that ranged from different types of metals to one that looked suspiciously like bone with holes drilled through it. “What about?”</p>
<p>“What I can get for .D that he’ll actually like,” Izm’s brow furrowed as he watched Ren dip the implements into the glass for their required time and then check them. When they all looked identical Izm reached for his cup only to have Ren smack the back of his hand with a slender metal rod. “Ow. Anyway, isn’t this overkill? We know there’s no one trying to murder me in the kitchens.”</p>
<p>Ren shook his head, while he tipped a few drops of some blue concoction into the glass. “Maybe. Do you know nothing happened to the fruits on the tree? While they were brought to the palace? Where this was made, and then the time it took to get to you? No, easiest on your plate.”</p>
<p>“Joy,” Izm sighed while Ren swirled the drink and finally took a sip of it and nodded. He passed Izm the untouched glass. “What’s with the witch’s brew? That one’s new.”</p>
<p>“It detects the thirty most common neurotoxins used in this region and the two neighboring countries, as well as common cognitive impairment drugs,” Ren was obviously pleased, and Izm didn’t have to ask to know that Ren had made it himself. “So, you’re still sore .D didn’t fall over himself for your fancy knife.”</p>
<p>Izm’s tongue tied itself into knots trying to irritably explain that it wasn’t just a fancy knife. That it was special and rare and expensive, and hell Izm was almost jealous. Ren just waved a hand to silence him and brush aside his explanations. </p>
<p>“No. Try this. You like me--pretend--you like me, you want to make me happy, impress me. What would you get me?” </p>
<p>Izm squinted at him for a few seconds, “I would probably get you something custom made to carry your instruments. You’re using something that wasn’t built for that, and sometimes you lose them or get them mixed together. Maybe some of those scaled gloves made of salamander skin, since you’re always working with caustic materials.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, these are very helpful. Thanks for thinking of me,” Ren gave him a little bow, as well as he could manage in the chair. Then he flipped back up with a smug smile and gestured like ‘see?’</p>
<p>“What the hell is that?” Izm could at least vent his frustration with the fake gift exchange.</p>
<p>“You got me something for my job. .D is here to guard you, to put his life on the line. And the thanks he gets is an instrument to continue to perform his duties. Not very personal,” Ren shrugged and started on the fruit plate now that all of the food had been cleared as safe. It was inappropriate to eat before Izm, but they had dispensed with formalities on day one. “And I like my job, do you think he enjoys all this? Might as well buy you another crown.”</p>
<p>Izm sighed, deflated. Then a sudden thought drove him to stand, slamming his hands on the table, “Are you telling me this has been going on the whole time? But people normally seem really grateful…”</p>
<p>Ren’s pierced eyebrow rose, “You’re becoming king of the entire country in six months. Of course they’re thrilled. Or maybe they’re thinking about how much they can sell whatever crazy trinket for~”</p>
<p>Izm swore and dropped into his seat, utterly disgusted. This, this right here is why he snuck out to cheat at cards with people who would never be able to recognize him. To be treated like a person, and not a crown. </p>
<p>“Everything all right?” .D had been summoned by Izm’s commotion, his rounds complete. His hand rested on the pommel of the plain heavy knife that he carried on his right hip. </p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Izm waved his hand, and let his face relax into the characteristic smile .D was used to. .D didn’t unfurrow his brows. “Oh come on, I said it’s fine. Nothing that’s going to kill me, at least. You’re finished with the perimeter, right? Why don’t you sit down, have some food.” </p>
<p>“I had breakfast,” .D protested, distracted from his concern by fending off Izm’s invitation.</p>
<p>“Yeah, whatever. That was at like four in the morning when you get up to check under my bed for murderers, or something. And I know it wasn’t this nice, so come on.” </p>
<p>.D found himself pulled and badgered into the seat across from Ren who shrugged helplessly at him. Once Izm had cracked his sharp but brittle shell, Ren had easily given into the prince’s boundary breaking. Izm had an obvious need to feel close and friendly with the people around him, and Ren could give him that, with the benefit that Izm showered his friends with whatever he had at hand. </p>
<p>.D frowned at the thought, but Izm pulled his attention to the spread before them. Flaky warm pastries with a variety of spreads, more fruits than he’d seen in one place before, thick pan seared bacon still sizzling in its own fat. Plus the absolute vat of slightly alcoholic fruity drinks that Ren had tested, flanked by a pot of hot tea and water. .D knew for a fact Izm didn’t even like some of these things, and still they found themselves to his table in a ridiculous display. </p>
<p>At Izm’s insistence and under Ren’s amused watch, .D selected a croissant with honey drizzled over it, a legitimately tempting serving of bacon and was going to be done but his eyes fell on something more tempting. There were only a handful, red and bright, the leaves already pulled off for convenience. He took one, then another, and soundlessly tucked into his second breakfast.</p>
<p>But Izm caught him glancing at the one lone strawberry on his plate. The prince grinned and slid his berry onto .D’s plate, then eagerly went through the entire display until half of .D’s plate was full of every single strawberry at the table. </p>
<p>“Take them, they’re not really my thing.” </p>
<p>“Thanks,” .D was tongue tied for any other response. He hadn’t even expected to see them, but now they filled him with an odd homesickness made stranger by Izm’s obvious pleasure that he had found something he liked. At a loss, he speared one with his fork and ate it eagerly. His lids drifted closed, and he let out a pleased sigh at the familiar taste. </p>
<p>When he looked back at Izm the prince had his chin in his hands, obviously happy to watch .D eat each strawberry in the same way. .D’s cheeks darkened and he traded for the croissant instead. </p>
<p>“Those aren’t very common where you come from, huh?” Ren asked, breaking the embarrassing silence. </p>
<p>.D jumped on the scrap of relief immediately, “Um, no. Not really. Climate’s not right for it. But I had them every once in a while when I was a kid. Nostalgia, I guess.” </p>
<p>“Well isn’t that interesting,” Ren muttered, glancing significantly at Izm. </p>
<p>.D caught the significance, but he didn’t understand what it was about. He couldn’t put his finger on it, maybe it was instincts honed from the years in his position, but he was certain now that the conversation before he’d arrived was about him.</p>
<p>~~~~~</p>
<p>“What have I told you about open spaces, Izm?” </p>
<p>“They make you nervous for me,” Izm replied, noting that .D had dispensed with his title like he’d requested when they were alone. Perfect. “That’s real sweet, but I haven’t been allowed out in the gardens since this whole thing started, and I’m tired of it.”</p>
<p>He was tugging .D along at this point, holding his hand and the edge of one of his belts to prove his determination. .D would be able to stop him by sheer difference in size, if he wanted to, but allowed himself to be inched along. The ache in Izm’s arms tomorrow would be his punishment for making .D’s life difficult.</p>
<p>“I need to make sure the gardners haven’t ruined everything,” Izm continued as explanation. He’d provided about five to .D so far, none of which .D deemed important enough to jeopardize his safety, but maybe put together they would be enough.</p>
<p>“They’re gardeners. Isn’t taking care of the garden their specialty?” .D asked sceptically, finally plucking Izm’s hands off of him so they could walk normally through the sculpted hedges of the garden entry.</p>
<p>“They’re idiots,” Izm scoffed. “It’s like comparing the others who showed up for your position to you.” </p>
<p>A wave of scent hit them, heavy wisteria hung on the overhead trellis and through the metal to sway in the air above them. The end of the tunnel opened to the center of the gardens. Directly in front of them was a large black marble fountain. The piece poured water in four carved waterfalls, emptying into pools filled with large lily pads and bright pink flowers. In the center, carved of white marble instead, was a lifesize representation of the previous rulers of the country. From what he understood, both of them had passed in Izm’s childhood, leaving an eleven year old the sole heir to the throne. Izm hardly glanced at the fixture, flitting instead to the individual smaller gardens instead.</p>
<p>In this season the garden was a riot of color. .D followed dutifully behind Izm, and found him to be a wealth of information regarding the different species found there. An entire section of the garden was devoted to roses, of which there were several hybrids with their thorny vines and bewitching scent. Izm showed him one whose velvety petals were so dark they were almost black, his own breed, a tradition that had passed down several generations of rulers. .D couldn’t help but wonder if the fact that they almost looked dead was considered a bad omen.</p>
<p>Other areas were less solemn. Wildflowers who were crafted to look as natural as possible, waving in the winds as swarms of butterflies harvested the sweet nectar they advertised. Orchids in a greenhouse so humid that Izm instructed him to leave his overcoat outside, their flowers so alien they barely looked like plants. A pond filled with fish that hurried to the edge when they heard footsteps, hoping to be fed. Izm laughed and gave .D a handful of fresh vegetables swiped from his lunch platter and showed him how to sprinkle them through the water. </p>
<p>Izm was obviously in his element, relaxed and easy. He didn’t care that his clothes were getting dirty and smudged as he pruned dying blooms from a white oriental lily. The image was far more humanizing than the prince who was dressed in furs and velvets, heavy crown on a smirking face. It made him look his age.</p>
<p>“Would you be a gardener, then?” .D asked, brushing pollen from one of the more enthusiastic lilies from Izm’s collar. “If you hadn’t been born a prince?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Izm shrugged, straightening and brushing his hands on the thighs of his pants. “Maybe I just like this because it’s so different from what I normally do. I think I’d make a great pirate, honestly, but I don’t think that avenue’s open.”</p>
<p>.D laughed softly. “No. Probably not.”</p>
<p>“But I’d be a good one, right?” Izm threw that gleaming smile at him.</p>
<p>“I’ve had the misfortune of meeting a handful of pirates,” .D replied seriously. “Yes. Yes, I think you’d make an excellent pirate, so I’m glad you were born a prince.”</p>
<p>“Backhanded compliment~” Izm laughed and moved on to the next area.</p>
<p>“So, has everything been ruined in the two months you’ve been gone?” The air smelled like jasmine and gardenia in this garden, each of which were planted at the base of the slender spiraling trees that kept the midday sun from touching them. </p>
<p>“Hm?” Izm looked over his shoulder, then his expression brightened in recognition. “Oh. No, of course not. The gardeners were handpicked for their expertise. Everything is perfect, just the way I like it, or I’d get rid of them.”</p>
<p>.D stopped in the middle of the cobblestone path, frowning at the back of Izm’s head cradled in his crossed hands. “Then why are we here.”</p>
<p>“The other four reasons I listed,” Izm turned, walking backwards instead, even though .D wasn’t following. “I haven’t been here in forever, and I wanted to show you. But I didn’t think that would be enough.”</p>
<p>“We should go, you’ve gotten plenty of fresh air,” .D said firmly, catching up with Izm and taking him by the arm. </p>
<p>“One more garden, okay? Last one, but it’s the most important one,” Izm looked up with bright earnest eyes. .D let out a sigh that came from his toes and let Izm lead the way. Izm gleefully took the hand that had grabbed hold of his arm and pulled .D into the next area. </p>
<p>An archway of greenery separated the last garden from the next, bright leafy greens twisted and tangled around them. Izm stopped for a second and pointed up at a cluster of brown oblong shapes. “Kiwis will be ripe soon.”</p>
<p>“Kiwis?” .D followed his gaze up to the cluster of fruits. “I don’t know what I thought they grew on, but it wasn’t this.”</p>
<p>“Right? Food is so weird,” Izm laughed and tugged him through the archway. </p>
<p>The observation was apt, since the next garden appeared to be full of everything edible. Twisting vines and scraggly bushes dotted with bright berries, arrangements made entirely of brightly colored leafy vegetables some of which he’d never even seen before, and clusters of peppers so bright and shiny they rivaled the flowers. </p>
<p>Izm popped a bright red pepper into his mouth and crunched it happily, then handed .D something else to try. </p>
<p>To .D’s surprise, it wasn’t a pepper, but a strawberry. He looked up from the bright red berry, up to Izm, then over his shoulder, to the corner of the garden that was entirely overtaken by strawberry bushes. Izm stepped wordlessly to the side so he could get a closer look. It was a corner of the garden that had been dedicated to a well worn wooden bench, with vertical planters forming a wall that sheltered the bench from prying eyes in the rest of the garden. Each square of the wall was formed of a  strawberry bush overflowing from its planter. He was no plant expert, despite his berry preferences, but each of them had a few distinct differences from the neighbors. </p>
<p>“Each one is a different subspecies. Not my thing, like I said, but I imagine they all have a little bit of a different flavor,” Izm had caught up to him, happily watching .D discover his present. “I know this is a long job, so I thought it might be nice if you had something just for you here. I found out it was finished today, sorry if I was pushy.”</p>
<p>“It’s great,” .D turned and smiled that rare careful smile he had, like he was afraid his face would break if he smiled too much. Then he smiled more, bright and earnest in a shining way that reached his golden eyes. “Really. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Izm had never been stabbed before, but he imagined that’s what it felt like. That sharp, aching, twisting in the center of his heart, like all his ribs were breaking with the intensity of it. That scared him, terrified him with how new and foreign it was. That feeling that .D’s true and beautiful smile had caused. </p>
<p>But in that split second, as he remembered how to breathe, he wanted to do whatever it took to make .D smile like that every day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 10 yr olds hitting each other w sticks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Izm was found up in a tree.</p>
<p>Sometimes it took a whole cadre of servants fanning out on the castle grounds to find where he had run off to cause mischief or avoid a lesson he found boring. A couple of the servants had built a rapport with the child, which made it easier to track him down. Unless he decided that avoidance was the game they were playing. </p>
<p>Once his caretakers had attempted to tame his inherent wild streak, but fighting the impulse just made things more difficult. Now his particular brand of well intentioned chaos was greeted with indulgence more often than not. </p>
<p>On this occasion the cry that Izm had been located summoned his mother. That was unusual. Even more so, the intimidating force behind her. </p>
<p>The queen beckoned her son to leave the tree, and he dropped to the ground with a little roll that his sword master taught him so he could take falls. Izm’s gaze flickered from her to the man by her side and stayed there. </p>
<p>He had spied on the arrival of the nobles from the northern reaches, and seen their head of household from afar, but up close the northern lord was arresting. To Izm’s slight self, the man felt at least eight feet tall. He had lighter brown hair and bright green eyes that looked through Izm. The two handed sword strapped to his back was incomprehensibly large, and he had an entire wolf pelt draped across one shoulder. </p>
<p>Izm gawked through his mother’s introduction, not realizing until the noble man inclined his head in deference to the crown prince. </p>
<p>His mother was either annoyed or understood his incapacitation. She put a hand on his shoulder and guided Izm’s gaze away to the boy he had completely missed. “I was hoping you could keep Caleb company while we spoke? Until dinner, at least.” </p>
<p>“I can do that,” Izm replied confidently, put off by the fact that this other boy also bowed to him, however awkward and unpracticed. </p>
<p>“I knew I could count on you,” There was laughter in her voice that died as she turned back to Caleb’s father and guided him back down the winding path toward the castle. </p>
<p>“You’re really the prince?” The question came as soon as the adults were out of sight, obviously expecting Izm to say no.</p>
<p>“That’s what they tell me~” </p>
<p>Caleb squinted at him, unimpressed with what he found. “You don’t look like a prince.”</p>
<p>Izm was dressed down to save the laundress years off her life. With loose tie up breeches and a tree sap stained shirt, he could understand the confusion. Maybe Caleb looked like a prince, because he certainly didn’t look like an eleven year old boy. </p>
<p>Almost all of his clothes were leather, with thick boots that reached his knees and metal studs worked into vulnerable places. At his hip was a short sword, sized for his height (a head above Izm) and unlike Izm’s, his sword was not made of rattan. </p>
<p>“Is that real?” Izm asked without pause for manners. Did you need manners around other kids? The concept baffled him. “It looks like it. Why do you have a real sword?”</p>
<p>The unspoken question being, why he couldn’t have one but this strange boy could. </p>
<p>“It’s real,” Caleb obviously couldn’t resist the simple flattery of envy, and slid the blade two inches from its scabbard to let the metal reflect the midday sun and prove his claim. He scoffed in the pretentious way only preteen boys had when Izm’s eyes shone greedily. “But you’re definitely too young to have one, I bet.” </p>
<p>“I think it’s less age and more that your arms are longer than mine,” Izm said practically, taking Caleb’s wrist without hesitance to measure their arms against each other. Caleb was significantly larger in almost every aspect. When Izm let his hand back Caleb tucked both hands safely behind his back like Izm was going to touch him again. “Why was your dad wearing a wolf skin?”</p>
<p>“It’s the symbol of our house,” Caleb shrugged. He obviously hadn’t been expecting the cross examination but Izm’s eager expression brooked no disagreement. “And there’s a lot of wolves up north, eating cattle and harassing villages. You keep the pelt of the first one you kill as proof you’re a man.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Izm was entranced with the concept and obviously equipped with another batch of questions, but Caleb held his hands up to stop him.</p>
<p>“No. My turn. Why are you in the middle of the woods, shouldn’t you be closer to the castle?” He exhaled sharply through his teeth in an expression of annoyance or disbelief. “You’re going to get killed out here.”</p>
<p>Izm’s face split into a grin at the absurdity of the suggestion. “No way. We’re still really close, this is just the outskirts of the garden. These woods are fake.”</p>
<p>Caleb’s expression was unreadable, “What do you mean.” </p>
<p>“I mean a bunch of people planted these trees here so this part of the grounds would be private. It’s not a real forest with wild animals and stuff, unless you count birds,” Izm gestured around them to show the boundaries of the different areas. “Then over there is the garden, and it’s even more fake, as nice as it is. Anyway, I prefer being outdoors.”</p>
<p>Caleb was soon Izm’s vaguely consenting companion. He didn’t have much choice in the manner since Izm was going to chatter at him no matter what, and he still didn’t quite believe the prince’s assurance that there were no predators in the woods.</p>
<p>Try as Izm might he couldn’t help Caleb grasp the concept of the gardens. The boy was used to small struggling plots of land that provided only the hardiest of vegetables to last through the cold seasons when food was scarce. The idea of huge green spaces delicate enough to require constant care and whose only purpose was beauty was completely alien. But Izm did his best anyway. </p>
<p>Finally as the light started to dim as the sun slipped inbetween the trees, the two boys retreated to Izm’s rooms. Caleb was growing edgy in the coming darkness, and even though he wouldn’t admit that, Izm could tell. </p>
<p>“What do you do with all this space?” Caleb asked, looking around the huge room that was Izm’s bedroom, study and dining area all in one. </p>
<p>“Not much, honestly,” Izm said, waiting for Caleb to move on so they could play a game or something.</p>
<p>He finally turned to Izm half in awe, half disgust. “Eighteen windows. You might as well sleep outside.” </p>
<p>“I like hearing the crickets,” Izm grinned until the other boy couldn’t hold his judgemental expression any longer.</p>
<p>“How much longer do you think they’ll take?” Caleb asked. </p>
<p>“Mm, about an hour,” Izm replied after peering at the water clock in the corner. Izm looked around his room for something to do with this strange boy who didn’t understand gardens or open windows and always kept an eye on doors. He settled on his practice sword, holding out the carved and lacquered rattan sword for Caleb’s inspection. “You could help me practice.” </p>
<p>Caleb snickered, the first sound of mirth Izm had heard from him. He examined the weight and density of the rattan sword, then returned it. “It won’t be fair. Especially if you don’t have a second one of those.”</p>
<p>“It’s not a duel, it doesn’t have to be fair. We’re just playing,” Izm led the way to the clear area so they wouldn’t knock anything over if they broke the ring. He bounced on the balls of his bare feet, shifting back and forth and readjusting to the faux weapon in his hands. Caleb stood a few feet in front of him, still and concentrated, his sword in its sheath to keep from slicing Izm open. Hopefully. </p>
<p>After the first pass, Izm agreed. This was not fair. In fact, this was so unfair that it wasn’t even fun. Caleb had a head and several pounds on him, and he used that sword like he meant it. The additional strength and skill meant that even if Izm parried or blocked a blow correctly, Caleb could push through it, and the first match ended in a very one sided win for Caleb.</p>
<p>“I told you.”</p>
<p>“Whatever. Again.” Izm was winded, and a little bruised though he wouldn’t admit that. But the second round, he was determined not to fight fairly either. </p>
<p>He was faster than the redheaded boy who took his feints as truth. The first time they locked their dull blades, Izm immediately dropped to the floor. Caleb over balanced, and a swift leg sweep took him to the floor. Izm tapped the end of his rattan stick under Caleb’s chin, signifying the win. The older boy looked stunned and furious, and was halfway through demanding a rematch when the two of them were finally called to dinner with their parents.</p>
<p>Izm easily helped Caleb to his feet, and peppered him with enough questions and compliments to ease off the bruised ego of his loss. </p>
<p> ~~~~~</p>
<p>Izm wasn’t certain what brought Lord Donahue back to the capitol city so frequently after that, but he almost always brought his son. Looking back, it was one of the few tenuous friendships that Izm had with nobility. </p>
<p>When .D asked if Izm had always surrounded himself with servants and laypeople, those gold eyes searching for some breakthrough understanding, Izm hadn’t even thought about the brief summer of maybe sort of friendship with the northern noble. His life was separated into two parts. Before and after the death of his family. Before was such a hazy mess that he’d almost completely forgotten about Caleb.</p>
<p>He certainly hadn’t expected their next meeting to be his coronation ball. </p>
<p>Caleb had kept that head of height and then some, filling out as substantially as Zeke. Somewhere along the way he’d gained rough scars and a rougher expression. His green eyes were still bright, but it was the harsh cold brightness of a glacier. Across his brow was the iron circlet that marked him as the leader of house Donahue, and the white wolf pelt across his shoulder was far larger than the one that had adorned his father. </p>
<p>Caleb bowed deeply to his prince in greeting, just as stiff and grudging as always. His expression dripped with malice.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Long Tongued Liar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spring in the north was short lived. The ice flows in the river broke to pieces, the snow receded to the mountains, and the scrubby grasses and bushes put out new shoots in a brief desperate bid toward the sun. Travel was easier, less snow, less storms, and clear roads. The populace of the dour north brightened with new life as though the sun was finally allowed to shine fully for these few short weeks.</p>
<p>Rire was utterly miserable.</p>
<p>Though the locals shed layers and left their furs to be cleaned and dried, he wore a thick wool jacket to protect him from the sharp cold breezes coming off the mountains. Even this spring, a blessing for the inhabitants, was cruel and cold in comparison. The capitol city had seasons a plenty, but neither was too disagreeable. The crisp salted air off the sea kept the weather from being too warm or too cold. </p>
<p>Living here must be some divine punishment. It certainly explained why every person he had met from the north was an insufferable ass, but didn’t incline him to forgiveness.</p>
<p>Ever since his chartered ride crossed into the inhospitable north, he had begun day dreaming of home. Even the noble manor was depressing. All tall imposing stone ripped from the bones of the nearby mountains and girded with iron from their depths. Animal pelts stretched across the floors. He had been told in earlier visits that this kept warmth in. He couldn’t tell. </p>
<p>During his tenure as a representative and advisor for nobles who couldn’t be troubled to be the same for themselves, he had been across several provinces. All lands had redeeming qualities, their nobility treated their manors as status symbols. The north was an exception.</p>
<p>Deep into the narrow corridors, Rire couldn’t help noticing once again that the only windows were arrowslits. The meager sunbeams sliced across the floors. This was less a manor than a converted military post. As if the nobles of the north were preparing for an assault.</p>
<p>They really needed to let go of the past. They had only been invaded by adjacent provinces a handful of times. </p>
<p>His internal monologue screeched to a halt once the servant guiding him allowed him to walk into the audience hall. Rire pressed his eyes shut for a moment, took a breath, and readjusted.</p>
<p>The hall was the center of the fortress, tall and reinforced against potential assault. There was an enormous wooden table, for the gathering of the minor nobility of the province, that had been pushed to the side to give an uninterrupted view to the rough hewn stone and steel throne. Opposite the table was a huge fireplace that lay empty since it was the ‘warm’ season. </p>
<p>The stretch of wall above the throne was almost covered in the heads of fearsome predators. They were taxidermied and fixed to plaques inscribed with dates and names. Higher on the wall was an assortment, snow leopards, mountain lions, even a few bears. But from the mid point down to just above the throne all the mounts were wolves. Black, grey, brindle, white. All wolves, open gaping sharp toothed mouths snarling at whomever walked through the door. </p>
<p>Disgusting.</p>
<p>The true surprise was who sat in that awful stone chair. Despite being made for the large forms of the north, the occupant managed to make the throne look ill fitting. He sat, knees apart, half slouched, with one arm over the side of the throne and the other holding the hilt of the enormous zweihander at his side. An iron band circled his hair, red as the poisonous berries on the spindled bushes that clung to the crags. Other nobles decorated their circlets with gems or precious metals, as long as it didn’t look too much like a crown they got away with it. The north was always iron. Dull. Grey. Unyielding.</p>
<p>“Took you long enough,” the redhead leaned forward, his flat green eyes sizing Rire up and down with no subtlety in his sneer. </p>
<p>Rire wracked his brain, what had the brat’s name been? He’d only seen him once or twice since Donahue had been so possessive of his family. Something traditional, northerners weren’t creative. This boy hadn’t signed his letter demanding Rire’s presence, threatening to dissolve their agreement. The exact kind of disrespect he had come to expect from these types. </p>
<p>“Apologies,” Rire replied, his tone respectful enough even if he dispensed the title of lord. Technically they were on equal enough footing. “The snow in the pass took longer than anticipated to melt.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Caleb (that was it!) obviously counted inability to travel through the snow as a hit against him. “I thought you got your feelings hurt and decided to give up easy.” </p>
<p>“I value my position as the northern regent and my opportunity to represent your best interests at court,” Rire said. Who wouldn’t relish the chance to maneuver the province that supplied the kingdom with most of its metals and precious gems, carted from the mountains that others found impossible to navigate. If Caleb was halfway literate, he would be able to see that Rire had been responsible for whatever fortune the province had the past six years. And if Rire had played a little fast and loose to accelerate his own standing at court, no harm no foul. And good luck proving it. </p>
<p>Caleb snorted in response and fell back against his throne. Rire wondered that he didn’t break his back against the stone. “I don’t need a representative at court. My father should never have holed himself up here and let you play noble with our province.”</p>
<p>“And where is your lord father?” Rire asked, playing the fool, though he was sure he knew the answer.</p>
<p>“Dead,” was the short reply, until Caleb gestured to the most recent plaque. “Hunting accident.”</p>
<p>The plaque was a horrifically large white wolf matriarch, even from Rire’s perspective the she-wolf’s teeth looked as long as his fingers. A sparkling white wolf pelt decorated Caleb’s shoulders. </p>
<p>“My condolences,” Rire inclined his head in respect for the dead. He would bet a small kingdom that previous Lord Donahue’s body was at the bottom of some icy ravine with a gaping sword wound. The thought gave him pause, and he mentally tweaked a plan that he had been tending in the back of his mind. “And your mother?”</p>
<p>“She’s spending spring by the river. Holiday.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping to speak with her.”</p>
<p>“I bet you were, old man,” Caleb’s lip curled, mimicking the snarl of a wild wolf. Oh he was going to be perfect.</p>
<p>“My lord, please let me be frank,” Rire began with an extra flourish of respect, now that he saw exactly how low in Caleb’s esteem he was. “You are welcome to dismiss me. I will find work elsewhere. But you have obviously not been trained in court etiquette. It will be a foreign language for you, and while you learn it your province will suffer. More will die during the winters, you will not get the resources you want from the capitol. I’m <i>sure</i> you would get your feet eventually, if your people do not relieve you of your head beforehand.”</p>
<p>“Or I could relieve you of <i>your</i> head,” Caleb stood, and with the raised dais he stood well over Rire. He didn’t draw his sword, but it was obvious his hands were itching to do so. “I’ve watched my father drive us into the dirt. You too. Neighbors pressuring our borders, no resources to fend off the wolves coming further down the mountains, and constant demands for production. The north is dying while the south drains us like a tick.”</p>
<p>Rire inclined his head. He wasn’t wrong. The north was like a well bred hunting dog. Invaluable, with their resources that let the rest of the country run. But dangerous as well, strong and proud. You keep the dog lean and just hungry enough that it hunts well for you. But not so much that the dog turns on you instead. No one wanted the north to realize that they could fundamentally strangle the rest of the kingdom if they became independent and refused trade. </p>
<p>“I couldn’t agree more,” Rire smiled patiently, watching Caleb’s brow furrow. He obviously had expected an argument. Knowing his family, that wasn’t a surprise. “I have brought these concerns to the council, but of course every province fights for their own benefit. We lack the guidance of a strong king to truly do what is right. Unfortunately, I’ve watched the prince grow from a child, and I fear he will be just as weak a ruler as his father. He is impetuous, self obsessed, I don’t think you could get him to grasp the north’s importance.”</p>
<p>“You’re just telling me you’ve given up,” Caleb growled. Right, he was going to have to get to the point quickly with this one.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you know your father was in talks with the previous king, before his untimely departure?”</p>
<p>“Yes. I remember,” Caleb waved a hand dismissively.</p>
<p>“Then you know that bloodline is weak. It has been declining for generations. What a pity that it was not wiped clean,” Rire wet his lips, uncomfortably close to the angry youth with the hungry sword. He didn’t want to be obvious, but he was sure treasonous thoughts were safest in the north. “With the bargaining power that the north has, and the long strong bloodline of your family, you probably would have been next in line.”</p>
<p>Caleb’s eyes narrowed, crinkling the scar in his eyebrow. Rire could practically taste his interest. “Why wouldn’t you put yourself on the throne?” </p>
<p>“Besides being content with my station?” Rire asked, a smile playing across his lips. He couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it. “I don’t have a claim. My father was a minor noble of the central province. Sadly I don’t have your illustrious lineage.” He gestured at the wall of taxidermied animals behind Caleb. </p>
<p>“And if you think this kid is so inept, why now? If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>Rire wasn’t sure how much more obvious he could be about it, but he just smiled tightly. “I thought he could be managed, but Izm is an absolute lost cause. He ascends to the throne in less than a year. Besides, I did try to alleviate this blight upon the country before. I’m not surprised your father didn’t confide in you, you were fairly young at the time.” </p>
<p>“Eighteen windows,” the phrase meant nothing to Rire, but it had split Caleb’s face into a jagged smile and shook a bitter laugh out of him. “Right. Of course. And then when things didn’t go to plan he gave up. Stupid old man.” </p>
<p>“We would have to work quickly, the boy has absurd luck, and his guard is much more substantial than years past,” Rire was already ticking mental lists, sprawling maps and stratagems that even he hadn’t realized he was working so diligently on. “There may need to be multiple attempts. But as long as we keep you clear, I think it would be child’s play to at least instate you as a regent.”</p>
<p>Caleb rolled his eyes and led Rire into an antechamber where they could talk and plan with less eavesdroppers and more lunch. He was quick to ask Rire what exactly he wanted out of the deal, and received a numbered list in response. Near sunset, as the nipping winds started clawing their way through the arrowslits, they finalized their bargain. </p>
<p>Rire was less than enthused to find it involved cutting their palms and comingling of blood. Only after he left for the warmth of his bedchamber, fireplace stacked with fire wood, did he remember that he hadn’t performed the same ritual with Caleb’s father. He was left awake, staring at his bandaged palm, wondering if something had been missed, or if he had been so quick to expect the barbarism he’d accidentally been tricked.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Laughing Matter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Izm picked up friends like some people picked up new clothes. If he liked them, and they fit the dynamic, they were his whether they were aware of their new status or not. From the alchemist .D had sub-contracted to keep him safe, to the affable hunter whose protection had been an accident, and even the stable boy who looked after Izm’s roan gelding. </p>
<p>.D had watched Izm easily absorb the three of them into his inner circle, bypassing all manner of class restrictions and propriety. He could feel the same thing happening to him. As much of a professional distance as he tried to keep, he felt the pull. Izm casually crossed boundaries like they were nonexistent, his attention was infectious, and it was easy to forget the trappings of nobility when he dropped them like clothes he didn’t care to wear. </p>
<p>But outside their little group, which had taken to gathering in Izm’s seating room when their duties allowed them, Izm had no other visitors anywhere near his age. No nobility, or children thereof, and when .D had grilled him about anyone close to him that could orchestrate the recent attempts on his life Izm had merely shrugged.</p>
<p>Somehow--most things were ‘somehow’ around Izm--.D’s curiosity had led him here.</p>
<p>“That is not a treehouse,” .D said, looking up at the sprawling wooden structure that was supported by four separate oaks. </p>
<p>“Sure it is. It’s a house, in a tree,” Izm laughed and tugged his bodyguard along. With no official appearances, and no council meetings, Izm was dressed down. Red linen shirt, black pants, riding boots. A heavy knife was strapped to his thigh with a tooled leather scabbard. </p>
<p>“Several trees,” .D grumbled but followed Izm up the rope ladder. Izm’s nimble form disappeared through the narrow opening that .D had to shift and adjust just to pass through. </p>
<p>Knowing about Izm’s past and any possible threats therein was supposed to help him do his job. So he had finally asked more directly about Izm’s friends, people he knew when he was growing up, anyone that knew anything about him. The boy had come up mostly empty handed. .D finally asked what exactly Izm had done as a child in the castle, and Izm’s face had lit up at the opportunity to drag .D to his favorite places and regale him with stories.</p>
<p>.D had already seen the gardens, but Izm showed him the path you could take to get into the back end of the kitchens, and how you could sneak pastries as they cooled. .D was certain that a younger Izm had not been as quick and clever as he thought, but that the kitchen staff had turned a blind eye because he was the prince. Izm staunchly refused to believe that.</p>
<p>Through all of Izm’s stories the defining factor was that he was alone, or on a very rare occasion his tales featured his parents or an indulgent servant that he designated a favorite. Through Izm’s permanent grin, it was impossible to tell how he felt about that pattern. </p>
<p>Eventually the recounting led to the tree house, presumably built so Izm was more likely to be in a central location. </p>
<p>“This place could house an entire family,” .D couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or just in awe. He had seen plenty of the excess of royalty in his day, and benefited from some of it, this was just a particular brand.</p>
<p>“Oh, I guess so,” Izm poked around, looking out the windows, and rifling through the few things that had been left here since the last time he’d visited. “I never thought about it.” </p>
<p>There was some makeshift furniture, whatever a boy could pull up a knotted rope ladder and set up. A rolled bed, some cushions that were well past mildewy now, an empty waterskin, and a couple discarded practice swords. </p>
<p>“Wow, this place is a mess,” Izm laughed, kicking at one of the swords that had split in the moisture. “I haven’t really been here since I was a kid.”</p>
<p>.D had learned to translate basically every reference to childhood to before the death of Izm’s parents, he seemed to split his life into two phases. Even if eleven was still a child, he hadn’t really been able to act like one since then. “Looks like you were up here a lot. Plenty of space. Who were you sword fighting against?” </p>
<p>Izm squinted at the splintered sword, then shrugged and started looking through the other rooms, though it wasn’t clear what he was going to find. “Probably...there was a little while where one of the noble kids from up north came down with his parents. We only met a couple times, but it was probably him.”</p>
<p>.D followed Izm carefully into the next room. The boards creaked uncertainly beneath their feet, and considering how the time and moisture had treated other parts of the tree house, he was careful where he put his feet. “You stopped seeing each other.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Izm tugged at his curl, looking down at the bedroll made of straw and stolen pillows and a silk sheet long since ruined. “He was only here because his parents and mine were always talking. I didn’t really understand why they needed to meet almost every month, but obviously the conversation stopped.”</p>
<p>Izm’s knowing humorous look was met with a completely flat look from .D, who generally refused to acknowledge his more morbid jokes. </p>
<p>“The northern province has mostly withdrawn from politics since then,” Izm sighed, annoyed that he was drawn back into thinking about his responsibilities. “They nominated Rire as their representative a couple years back, and I haven’t heard anything from the actual family since.” </p>
<p>“Someone you used to know may be a potential ally,” .D proposed carefully. Izm was dodgy when it came to discussing politics. There was a good chance he would jump out the window instead since he couldn’t do that during council meetings. “Or a cause for concern.”</p>
<p>“.D, please,” Izm waved a hand at him. He turned away and walked through to the smallest room, the one that looked over the river. “This place is way less cool than I remember, I don’t need to drag work into it, too. Seriously this--”</p>
<p>His complaint was cut off by the sound of splintering wood, followed by an undignified yelp. This degenerated quickly to curses.</p>
<p>.D rushed into the room to see Izm halfway through the floor of the tree house. He was holding a branch and a splintered board to keep from falling the two stories to the ground, but the latter hand scrabbled for purchase on the wet wood.</p>
<p>“Shit-” .D dropped to his hands and knees, moving toward the hole in the floor slowly. He tested each hand placement to ensure the floor was stable, afraid of splintering the floor further and dropping Izm to at minimum severe injury. “Hold on, I’ll get you. Just don’t move.”</p>
<p>“I have no say in the matter,” Izm snarked even as he paled when the wood creaked and he slid. Shards of wood were jabbing at his hands and wrists, and his grasping hand would undoubtedly be covered in splinters. .D could smell the tell tale scent of fresh blood, though he couldn’t see the source from this angle, Izm must have cut himself on the way down. </p>
<p>“Then stop wasting breath being a smart ass,” .D said through gritted teeth as he inched his way over. He didn’t have anything to ground himself on, so upper body strength it was, joy. With relief he clasped Izm’s wrists, and though they both slid and shook, the floor stayed stable. Now, if Izm dropped, he could at least try to cushion the fall. “Hold on tight.”</p>
<p>“Finally~” Izm was still playing, but the relief in his voice was palpable. His shaky hands gripped .D’s wrists back, digging splinters into his skin. .D winced, but didn’t waver. </p>
<p>“I’ve got you…”</p>
<p>The whole process took far longer than was comfortable. .D had to pull Izm up carefully, pushing against the weak flooring, while Izm inched higher and higher until he could finally find his footing on the floor. </p>
<p>For several moments afterward, they clung to each other, panting and sweaty with the effort. Finally, they left the treehouse, and stood in the scattered leaves just beyond the sprawling trees. His feet firmly on the ground, breathing regular again, Izm immediately fell into peals of laughter. </p>
<p>.D watched him uncertainly, wondering if the stress had gotten to him, but the laughter didn’t degenerate into hysteria or tears. Izm just looked up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, laughing from his stomach.</p>
<p>“How fucking stupid,” the prince gasped as his laughter slowly receded to chuckles and shaky breaths. “Can you <i>imagine</i>, trying to assassinate someone and they just off themselves? Falling out of a tree? Can you believe how stupid that is?” </p>
<p>.D frowned, unable to find the humor in the idea.</p>
<p>“I would be so <i>mad</i>,” Izm cackled, covering his mouth to try and cram the laughter back down. </p>
<p>“I think it would just be convenient,” .D said finally, guiding Izm back toward the gardens and to the castle beyond that. “So please try not to do their work for them from now on.”</p>
<p>~~~~~</p>
<p>.D quickly picked up on the prince’s habit of down playing even the worst situation and laughing in the face of negativity. In some cases the trait was endearing. In others, supremely frustrating. Izm’s tendency to laugh at his own misfortune bordered on masochistic. .D was starting to raise serious questions about how much of a joke the whole thing was.</p>
<p>A couple of weeks after the tree house incident, the prince came down with a nasty bout of food poisoning. </p>
<p>Izm’s complaints started shortly after dinner with stomach pains that he described as someone shoving a rusty knife into his stomach and stirring his organs into soup. Within the hour, he had vomited the first time, and the physician was summoned.</p>
<p>She examined him, and listened to his symptoms, but eventually decreed that whatever had upset him so would just need to work itself out of his system and gave .D instructions to keep him cool and hydrated. .D wasn’t sure where he’d crossed from bodyguard to nursing assistant, but he stood dutifully at Izm’s side while the illness ran its course.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, since the physician was unable to confirm if the illness was simple food poisoning or something more sinister, Ren was recalibrating all of his instruments in an attempt to identify the gap in his poison detection. Convinced that was the issue, he would be up just as late as they were, sitting in the seating area with Zeke, examining his instruments and testing various table scraps by lamplight. </p>
<p>.D held Izm’s sweat damp hair and let him swig from a wineskin to swish the awful taste from his mouth and disinfect the area, before Izm spit back into the basin alongside the red tinged bile. He had long since emptied his stomach, but was cramping and heaving so frequently .D had set up a pallet on the marble floor of the bathroom.</p>
<p>Izm dropped back onto the bundle of folded pillows and quilts, and smiled weakly up at .D. “This sucks.”</p>
<p>“Definitely looks like it. And sounds like it,” .D replied, sitting down next to him to rub a cold cloth along his face and neck. </p>
<p>Izm’s grin widened, “You know, if this is poison, I wish they were better at it. This is infinitely worse than just kicking it.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know that. How many times have you died?”</p>
<p>“Not nearly enough, apparently. Definitely wish I was dead now,” Izm rasped and cleared his throat, wincing at how raw and acid eaten it was. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”</p>
<p>“If it’s killing you, that’s the exact opposite of my contract. So. No,” .D replied and Izm’s expression fell comically. .D shook his head and brushed Izm’s hair back from his face, combing through the tangles from being pushed to and fro. “Concentrate on getting better, not death.”</p>
<p>“Fine. But only because that actually feels nice.”</p>
<p>~~~~~</p>
<p>“Fancy meeting you here,” Izm’s ruby bright eyes were warm and welcoming, his lips slightly parted and face flushed with exertion. .D fought the urge to punch him in his stupid grinning face.</p>
<p>Who said that, who looked like that in the middle of a fight for their life? </p>
<p>The melee still raged around them as Zeke and Ren held off the contestant who had broken from the fighting to attack the prince instead. The contingent of guards that followed Izm during public appearances was finally getting into motion to apprehend the would be assassin. </p>
<p>.D knew this was an awful idea, but he had agreed anyway. Why? Why had he let Izm half flatter half bully him into competing for a prize he ultimately didn’t want? When he knew something terrible would happen with him too far away to be effective...something that led to him shielding Izm bodily, pressed up against him in the royal box with Izm making eyes at him. </p>
<p>He couldn’t have orchestrated this better if he tried.</p>
<p>.D was quiet through the arrest and afterward as everyone else dispersed. He took Izm back to his room, nodding and shrugging and otherwise responding as needed as Izm detailed the events of the incident he’d been a part of. Finally, once they were safely ensconced in the royal quarters his annoyance snapped across Izm’s sentence, stopping him in his tracks. </p>
<p>“I <i>told</i> you that was a bad idea,” .D jabbed his finger into Izm’s solar plexus, and the shorter man fell back. He rarely crossed the line into physicality, but he’d genuinely been scared when he saw a knife in Izm’s face. He could still feel his heart pounding, mouth dry, vision narrowing. Never again. “You hired me to protect you, so maybe let me do my job next time.”</p>
<p>“But you <i>did</i> protect me,” Izm brushed .D’s accusing finger off. Then he smirked, a mirror of the expression he’d worn when he realized .D had pushed him to the floor. “And I got a great view out of it. Maybe I should almost die more often.”</p>
<p>“And I’m sick of that,” .D’s voice raised, the tone he used on the battlefield. “Stop joking about dying, it’s not funny. Someone legitimately wants you <i>dead</i>.” </p>
<p>Izm raised an eyebrow at him, obviously fighting not to smile wider than he was. “I mean, you’ve met me now, don’t you sympathize?”</p>
<p>“Would it kill you to take this seriously?” .D snapped furiously before that irritation turned inward as he realized his particular turn of phrase. “Dammit, now <i>I’m</i> doing it.”</p>
<p>.D stalked off, halfway into the bedroom, fists clenching fitfully. He almost didn’t hear Izm’s response. The prince hadn’t moved from his place two feet in front of the door, but his shoulders had fallen. </p>
<p>“Probably would, honestly.” </p>
<p>.D turned back to face him, adjusting his armor and belts from the disarray of the thwarted assassination. “I just don’t understand. It doesn’t seem like you care.” </p>
<p>“Maybe,” Izm shrugged, holding his elbows in a loose hug. “Everything is a joke, most of the time. Making this into a joke just feels natural.” </p>
<p>“But it makes it sound like you want to die, Izm.” </p>
<p>Izm’s face finally fell, all the remnants of levity gone. He looked young and tired and drawn. .D took a few steps closer, instinctively wanting to comfort him, like a small child waking from a nightmare. But Izm started speaking again, and .D froze, afraid he would break this strange bubble of truth they were in. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve been on borrowed time since…”</p>
<p>Izm bit his lip and shook his head. He squared his shoulders and closed the distance between himself and .D, grabbed .D by the wrist, and pulled him into the bedroom. When they were safely ensconced in the room and Izm had a throw pillow held tightly against his chest, he began again.</p>
<p>“I was there, during the accident that killed my parents. I wasn’t supposed to be, but I had begged my mother to take me with them, I was old enough, I wanted to be a part of their royal duties. It was a fluke, an accident,” Izm looked down the entire time he recounted the story, as though he was only speaking to himself. “I wasn’t supposed to survive. I shouldn’t have. How does that work, an eleven year old living through something like that...when my parents--” </p>
<p>“Izm…” </p>
<p>Izm shook his head, stopping .D from whatever he was going to say. “So it feels like borrowed time. Like everything I got in between I wasn’t supposed to have anyway, and this is inevitable. I don’t want to die, I’ve been happier the past few months than any time I can remember. I’ve got friends and I’m <i>doing</i> things and--” </p>
<p>Izm finally looked up, and .D’s heart wrenched. His eyes were shiny, face flushed and blotchy from withheld tears. Izm’s expression twisted in hurt confusion, and his words were laden with new understanding. “I’m scared, .D. I don’t want to lose this.” </p>
<p>A few tears slipped grudgingly down his cheeks and .D breached the gap between them, surprising himself by pulling Izm roughly into his arms. He felt Izm stiffen, then shudder, and then shake as he finally let go enough to cry. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to lose you and Ren and Zeke and Marcus! I don’t even want to lose this stupid rank. I can do this, I can make things better, but .D, I’m so scared. I’m afraid to leave the castle, I’m afraid to eat dinner, I’m afraid to look out the window. I <i>hate</i> this.” </p>
<p>.D held him close, letting the stress and the terror and the frustration drain from him. Finally, when Izm’s sobs had settled into staccato breaths and little sniffles, .D stroked his hair in comfort. He leaned back, fishing a handkerchief from one of the various pouches on his belts and carefully wiped Izm’s face clean.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” .D said. Izm nodded shakily and accepted the little scrap of fabric to scrub his eyes. “You’re not living on borrowed time. As long as I’m here, I’ll make damn sure you stay alive. We’ll figure this out, however long it takes.”</p>
<p>Izm shuddered as .D reached forward and twisted the little curl that hung by his jaw, but eventually smiled. Shyly, .D noticed, which was an emotion he hadn’t known Izm was capable of feeling. </p>
<p>“I don’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way, but you let me do the worrying. Just, ease off on the morbid jokes,” .D released the little twist of hair, letting it play slowly through his fingers. “Please.” </p>
<p>“If you do me a favor,” Izm replied, the same firm tone that he used bargaining with the regent council. The strength and confidence was softened by the fact that his face was still red and his hair was a mess. </p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“Stay with me tonight? I’m uh...still a little shaken up,” Then Izm fell back into his teasing, easy as a fish in water. “I mean, the best place to guard my body is right next to it, right? Really, you should’ve been doing this from the beginning so--”</p>
<p>.D held up a hand to stop him. “I agree. Don’t make me take it back.”</p>
<p>Izm practically hurled himself at .D, and the bodyguard had to steady himself with a foot on the ground to stop them both from tumbling off the bed. Apparently hugging Izm in comfort had unlocked that option. “Alright, alright. Go get ready.” </p>
<p>Izm was ready for bed in record time, curled up in the covers as he watched .D dress down to a degree where he could still be useful if a would be assassin came through the window. .D could feel the prince’s eyes on him as he stripped off his over shirt. He cast a warning glance at Izm. </p>
<p>“Don’t make me regret this.”</p>
<p>“I won’t,” Izm promised, squeezing the pillow in his arms like that was the assurance. </p>
<p>.D rolled his eyes and slid into bed with Izm sandwiched between himself and his sword. The prince fell asleep in moments, exhausted by the stressors of the day and the emotions that came after. .D stroked his hair idly, watching Izm’s soft breath move that little curl back and forth in front of his mouth. </p>
<p>Now that he admitted it, he was afraid too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. How long have you been nineteen?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Here he is, sire,” the stable boy chirped enthusiastically as he guided the roan gelding into the center of the stable. The horse was dancing back and forth in anticipation of a ride, a chance to stretch its legs, but Marcus handled the headstrong animal with a firm hand and a soft voice. </p>
<p>“Thanks, Marcus,” Izm flashed a grin at the boy and offered up a sugar cube to the horse in an apology for being gone so long. “Do you remember what we talked about last time?” </p>
<p>“Oh, right,” Marcus glanced up and down the aisle of the stable, but there was no one else present but the prince and his bodyguard. Marcus eyed .D uncertainly, but spoke firmly. “Izm. Nice to see you again, it’s been a while.” </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Izm spoke both to Marcus and the horse, patting the white blaze between its eyes now that his bribe had been accepted. “Council forbid riding out after that last assassination attempt. But I’ve got this guy,” he gestured at .D who barely checked rolled eyes. “So I think I can bend the rules.”</p>
<p>“You’re going out? I think he’ll really like that. You know he gets bored easy,” Marcus patted the horse’s sides, expanding like a bellows in anticipation of the ride. “I’ll get him ready. Should I ready your horse, sir?” </p>
<p>This last was directed toward .D, who looked surprised to be spoken to directly. Most of the palace staff treated him as Izm’s shadow more than anything else, though Izm got the impression he was happy not to be bothered. .D shook his head, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword, gripping the pommel the way he did when he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. </p>
<p>“I don’t have a horse boarded here,” he said with a shrug.</p>
<p>Izm tilted his head to the side, trying to recall details from the past couple of weeks. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea how .D had arrived in the country since his first appearance was in the arena. “How did you travel?”</p>
<p>“I paid my way on a caravan by helping with the heavy lifting, minding the children and such,” .D glanced at the gelding that was playfully making Marcus’s tacking up more difficult than it should be. </p>
<p>“There are a few mares for general riding, I can introduce you,” Marcus piped up helpfully. He tsked the roan softly and rewarded his eventual cooperation with several friendly pats. </p>
<p>.D just grimaced, a particular expression Izm had become accustomed to. But this was different from the face .D made when he found out the prince snuck out in the middle of the night. It was an inward expression. “Thank you, but I don’t know how to ride. I’ve never had the opportunity to learn.”</p>
<p>“Even with all your travel?” Izm asked, curiously. He had pegged .D as far more worldly than he was, despite his best attempts. </p>
<p>“Horses are expensive to buy and to keep, I’ve never been able to justify it,” .D’s voice was lower, and he was pointedly making eye contact with neither of them, more interested in the hay strewn floor. The silence stretched for several awkward seconds, but Marcus helpfully broke it with the tactlessness of youth. </p>
<p>“Well, today you can probably ride with Izm, he’s decent enough to keep you from falling off,” Marcus dusted his hands on the well stained knees of his pants, his grey eyes shining with enthusiasm. “And I’d be happy to teach you, maybe during your off days? If you have those?”</p>
<p>Izm laughed and ruffled Marcus’s pale blond hair, making a mess he couldn’t possibly right. “He gets off days if I kick the bucket, so maybe we’ll both just come down to visit every once in a while. Eh, .D?”</p>
<p>“I have much more confidence in Marcus’s ability to teach me to ride a horse than your ability to keep a passenger safe.”</p>
<p>~~~~~</p>
<p>“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Izm asked as .D dismounted with more grace than when he’d climbed up behind Izm’s saddle. </p>
<p>.D squinted up at him, winded from the ride that took them out of the city and into the fields of the countryside. Izm had made several gestures toward him when questioned about his journey and downright avoided the head of his guard to flee, just the two of them. “I’m terrified that you are my only way back.”</p>
<p>Izm laughed and dismounted smoothly, letting the horse rest his heaving chest as he walked him out. Well, he’d had fun at least. The last time he had ridden a horse with someone, he had been too small to ride alone. The feeling of his bodyguard’s arms wrapped around his middle, chest pressed to his back, was altogether new and quite pleasant. While he tied his gelding to a nearby tree to allow him to eat off the verdant grass, he idly contemplated the possibility of fleeing the country. Just the three of them. </p>
<p>.D cleared his throat, “It wasn’t that bad.”</p>
<p>Izm turned, to see his stoic bodyguard, intently avoiding his gaze as he delivered his half apology. Maybe Izm did talk too much if twenty seconds of quiet made people think they had offended him. He was going to assure .D that he wasn’t upset, but the dark skinned boy continued, and Izm was happy to listen. They hadn’t exchanged his many words since .D caught him sneaking out of his quarters. </p>
<p>“You’re just reckless. And when you add a half ton animal to that, it’s a little jarring,” .D twisted the end of his belt in his fingers. He was looking out toward the silhouette of the city, the shining crescent of marble and clay that hugged the nearby sea, both sparkling in the early afternoon sun. </p>
<p>“I’ll make the ride back easier,” Izm clapped him on the shoulder. “Promise. I just didn’t want to be followed.” </p>
<p>“That sounds like you’re planning on offing me,” .D returned dryly, shrugging Izm’s hand off of him. But he turned to look at the prince, one corner of his mouth quirked in a wry smile. </p>
<p>“Sounds like a stupid move on my part,” Izm laughed. He flopped down onto the rolling grass beneath them, uncaring about any grass stains on his riding gear. The ride had winded him too, and he didn’t plan on heading back anytime soon. </p>
<p>“Where are we?” .D looked around them, the field, the handful of trees dotted here and there around the narrow dirt path they had rode in on. </p>
<p>“Dunno,” Izm grinned up at him, patting the soft grassy spot next to him. .D just raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never exactly stopped to ask. But I figure I can’t get in trouble, considering~” </p>
<p>“You may need to reconsider that philosophy, considering your position is why someone is trying to off you,” .D shook his head. He leaned against the tree instead of sitting in the grass, pulled out the dagger he kept strapped to his thigh, and began running a whetstone across the edge. </p>
<p>Izm shrugged off the suggestion, easily changing the subject back to what interested him. “You were pretty good for someone who doesn’t ride horses. You’ll have a lot easier time when you get better at posting.”</p>
<p>“Posting?” .D gave him a look, like he was making up words. </p>
<p>“Moving with the horse so you don’t get jostled,” Izm illustrated the motion for a moment, tensing the inside of his legs so his hips could rise up and down easily. Then he ruined the moment by snorting at the absurdity of the motion. Without a horse under him he was just bouncing in midair. The motion was not nearly as compromising when he’d learned how at ten.</p>
<p>“Anyway,” Izm dropped that trailing thought under the disbelieving scrutiny of .D’s gold eyes, and fell back to the ground, cushioned softly by the cradling grasses. A ladybug happily took the path of his stomach between one patch of grass and the other. “I’m surprised it hasn’t come up in your line of business.” </p>
<p>.D was silent for long enough that Izm started trying to come up with a new conversation starter, since .D wasn’t taking the leading observation. He twisted a long strand of grass between his fingers, peeling tiny strips of it away. “Like I said, horses are expensive to travel on. Plus, my first job was on a boat.”</p>
<p>“Really? Like guarding some travelling noble or something?” </p>
<p>“More like guarding a shit ton of cargo from pirates,” .D said, finally sheathing his knife with another look around them at the empty field. He sat a few paces from Izm, legs folded under him in a way that would let him leap up at a moment’s notice. “I was just a mercenary at the time, but I saved the captain’s life. It was a fluke, honestly, in the thick of a fight like that you’d forget your best friend’s face, I didn’t know I took an arrow for the captain. Just knew it was a killing shot for him, and a glancing blow for me.” </p>
<p>Under Izm’s obviously awed and eager gaze, .D sighed heavily and unlaced a leather bracer so that Izm could see the inch long white scar on his light brown skin. “Anyway, that got me my commendation, and I’ve been working off reputation since.” </p>
<p>“So, you’re telling me that you’re my bodyguard off a fluke~”</p>
<p>.D’s face twisted in flustered offence, and he snapped, “I’m telling you I’d take an arrow for you, idiot.” </p>
<p>Izm laughed as .D clamped his mouth shut, against the insult or the rise Izm had gotten out of him, it wasn’t clear. But Izm was happy with both. He abandoned his tattered blade of grass as .D picked up a few. “Not so formal when we’re not in public, huh?”</p>
<p>“You’re just a kid, prince or no,” .D muttered, gathering a few purple thistles from the grass around them to add to his selection of long grass. Izm couldn’t tell what he was doing, but his hands were busy. </p>
<p>“And you? You don’t look <i>that</i> much older than me. You were on that ship, what two years ago?” Izm had scooted a path through the grass so he could watch .D’s fingers work, tying the thistles together in a ring.</p>
<p>“Try five.”</p>
<p>“No way,” .D stiffened when Izm playfully swatted at him, but relaxed when it was clear the blows were soft and would stay that way. He just nodded in response. “There’s no way you were old enough to sign on as a mercenary.”</p>
<p>“Nope.” </p>
<p>“.D, come on, don’t leave me hanging here,” Izm tugged at his sleeve. .D just silently braided the grasses together around his ring of thistles. Once he tied the last knot and clipped a hanging blade of grass with his thumbnail, the mercenary presented the purple flowered grass crown. Izm only had a moment to be surprised before .D set the crown on his head where his gold circlet normally sat. His hair curled around the grass like something was supposed to be there.</p>
<p>“Forged papers stating I was eighteen were cheaper than a horse, and cheaper than buying an apprenticeship with a craftsperson where I would have to wait two more years anyway,” .D said lowly, looking down at his empty hands now that he had finished his task. “So I was eighteen for three years.” </p>
<p>“How long have you been nineteen?” Izm asked, hanging on every word of the story. He had half forgotten it was the actual past of the person in front of him.</p>
<p>“Two years,” .D said with a shade of a smile. “Once as practice, and once for real. I’m using my own papers now, less likely to get arrested when I go home.” </p>
<p>“That’s wild~” Izm grinned. But something about his enthusiasm must have rubbed .D wrong because the bodyguard glanced away again, looking for a specific blade of grass. </p>
<p>“It’s life, Izm,” .D poked him in the chest, the only physical contact they’d shared that .D actually initiated. “Sometimes, people do stupid shit because they need money.” </p>
<p>“It sounds like something I’d do for fun,” Izm mumbled, feeling like he was being scolded for something he didn’t understand.</p>
<p>“That’s because you don’t need money,” .D said. He held a long flat blade of grass between his hands so the end poked out past his fingers. “Besides, you and I both know you’d be the pirate, not the mercenary.”</p>
<p>.D brought his hands to his lips, and blew across the blade of grass, letting out a sharp whistle. The grazing horse nearby looked up, ears twitching. Izm scrambled over to demand a tutorial, and .D obliged until they had sufficiently bothered the horse enough that he was worried it wouldn’t take them back to the city. </p>
<p>Izm combed his fingers through the gelding’s mane, patting him and praising him until the horse pushed his head into Izm’s chest making him laugh. </p>
<p>“We should be good to go back now,” Izm said quietly, looking at their double divots in the grass. He was going to miss speaking so frankly with .D without the pressures of the castle around them. It almost felt like they were friends. He turned sharply to .D who took half a step back at the intensity of his look. “You took the job here for the contract money, right?” </p>
<p>“I mean, I certainly didn’t think it was going to be good for my health,” .D said flatly. “Yeah. I did. It’s enough that I’ll be able to go back home, visit the place I’ve been sending all this money back to.” </p>
<p>The ride back was slow, letting .D practice moving his body in a way that the horse’s rolling motion didn’t batter his backside. The slow pace was quiet enough that .D was able to rest his chin on Izm’s shoulder and quietly tell him about the place he grew up, and the children he made flower crowns and grass whistles for.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Playing Chicken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“That’s him,” Izm murmured over his shoulder to .D as the redheaded noble turned from the throne. </p>
<p>“Who?” .D was well practiced at standing guard by Izm’s side and speaking without looking like they were exchanging any words at all. </p>
<p>“Remember, way back? You asked if I had any other noble friends as a kid,” Izm spoke out of the side of his mouth. Then he smiled and greeted the next noble who had stepped forward to pay their respects to the prince who would become king tonight. The formality felt like it had been going on all night, though only an hour had passed.</p>
<p>.D hadn’t felt stifled in the pressed gold sherwani when he stepped out in Izm’s quarters. The layers had been weightless under Izm’s gleaming appreciative gaze. Now he was too aware of the restriction of his arms, the fabric that would pull and tug at his limbs if he had to draw his blade. Those venomous green eyes had reminded him all too quickly that Izm was not king yet, and his attempted murderer was not in custody, and there were enemies all around. </p>
<p>“You’re not telling me…?”</p>
<p>Izm glanced back at .D with a self deprecating smile. “Yep. Caleb, house Donahue. Spent a summer together just before everything got bad. Haven’t seen him since, but man...some guys have all the luck when it comes to puberty, right?”</p>
<p>.D watched the northerner pass through a crowd that parted for him like the sea. It wasn’t difficult to see why, he and the handful of northern attendants were taller and heavier than most everyone else here. Zeke was the only competitor, and with his light eyes and lighter complexion, it was obvious he hailed from a town that bordered the north. </p>
<p>No one spoke to the northern representatives, but that didn’t seem to bother them. Caleb stood with his men, leaned against the wall, drinking from a horn of spirits circulated by passing servants. Every so often he looked back at the throne, and .D had a vision of a slavering wolf, mangy and half starved, all ropes of muscle and spit dripping canines. </p>
<p>“You could have told me about him earlier and made my job so much simpler,” .D growled in between Izm’s noble engagements. </p>
<p>“You know I can’t make your job easy, .D. What is it this time?” Izm couldn’t stop glowing if he tried. All golds and reds and velvets and brocades. In sharp contrast to the worn practicality of the hefty white wolf pelt on Caleb’s shoulders, the black fox fur across his shoulders was soft and sleek and luxurious. It suited him, annoyingly.</p>
<p>“If he’s not the one trying to murder you, he at least wants you dead,” .D wrenched his eyes from the smiling prince and back to the dour northerner. One of the councilmen was speaking to him, dark hair pulled back meticulously, silks and leathers at least twice as expensive as the blue linens and iron chainmail Caleb wore. </p>
<p>“So do half the people in this room,” Izm laughed hollowly. Though they had built a tiny haven for themselves and their friends, the past months had uncovered a rot far deeper than either of them were prepared to deal with. All they knew was that the conflict would likely come to a head here, this night, where Izm was supposed to take up his father’s crown and with it, the country. </p>
<p>Izm couldn’t see .D’s soft, indulgent smile, he had to look forward and present that strong, imperturbable front to the people coming to wish him well. But he had several months to adjust to .D’s particular kind of subdued humor. “Yes, but he’s twice their size. I don’t think I can reach.” </p>
<p>“Sit on my shoulders~”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Potential Motive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How many attempts have there been?” </p>
<p>“Two, in the past month,” The prince replied readily enough. So far .D had no issue getting information from the boy, he volunteered everything readily. Whether or not it was useful was a different story. “After the second the council freaked out and we ended up with that competition.” </p>
<p>That had been three days ago, since then .D had only left the prince’s side while he slept and bathed. Otherwise, he was two steps to the right and one step back. “No similarity to the method or location?” </p>
<p>“Not really,” the prince shrugged. He had a thin circle of gold around his brow, keeping his otherwise messy black hair in place. Without that, .D wasn’t sure he would identify the slight, impetuous boy as any kind of nobility let alone royalty, despite the confidence in his step that was both bred and taught. Maybe the eyes would do it. Apparently the unusual red color was passed down through the house. “Other than both wanting me dead, they were completely different.” </p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ve already considered this, my prince, but is there anyone close to you that might have some motive to want you dead?”</p>
<p>“Close to me?” the prince’s smile was tight on the edges, like he was trying not to laugh. “I really only interact with the castle staff and the council on the regular. That’s it.”</p>
<p>.D’s familiarity with the council started and ended with the drama at the climax of the competition. .D was a nobody in this area of the continent, beating out several favorites, and foreign enough that several people raised suspicions that he was a would-be assassin himself. With all the back and forth, nobility bickering over the verdict of the judges. And there, in the center, the prince dressed in red and gold planting his feet in the dirt of the arena and holding .D’s arm up in the air and declaring him the winner. As they left the makeshift arena, and the protests fell on the prince instead, he tossed his head and declared that .D was his bodyguard and he would have no other. Otherwise, the esteemed noble council would have to content itself with the prince fending off assassins with his breakfast cutlery.</p>
<p>“Can you explain the council to me, your grace?” They were walking the winding stone halls toward the council chamber, so he may as well have a working knowledge of the process. He glanced down hallways as they went, updating his mental map. “Are they only in place while you are underage?”</p>
<p>“I told you to call me Izm, come on,” the prince stuck his tongue out, aging him down about three years. When he didn’t continue, .D checked a sigh.</p>
<p>“Izm.”</p>
<p>“Thank you~” They came to a stop outside two large wooden doors, wrought iron trappings mounting them to the stone walls. Two heavy rings served as each door’s handle. “The council has always been in place, but they hold more weight until I become king. Each province has a representative, normally the noble of the region or their specific representative. Some minor nobles are present as well, but they only have half a vote and their presence is not required for major motions.” </p>
<p>.D nodded slowly, wrapping his mind around the political process. The struggle must have shown on his face because Izm brushed past the details to actually answer his question.</p>
<p>“Anyway, there’s a checks and balances system,” Izm held his hands, palms out, moving them up and down like scales to illustrate his point. “For the king, the council is an advisory board with votes for things like going to war, or things with a high economic impact. Right now, each motion is a vote, but I have more votes than your standard representative. I can’t pass something on my own, and it’s difficult for the council to pass anything without me on board. Unless they’re unanimously against me. Here, just watch. If you have any questions I’ll explain more, but seeing it live should make sense.”</p>
<p>.D followed dutifully behind Izm and stood behind his more ornate chair at the oblong table in the middle of the council hall. He counted windows, made note of potential weapons in the room, and memorized every face in every chair. The men and women around him were familiar enough from the ruckus in the arena, but the dark haired boy with the sharp grin and penetrating red eyes was completely foreign.</p>
<p>.D couldn’t say that watching the process helped him unravel the arcane political processes of the country. But he did see an entirely different side of Izm. This Izm was the prince of a nation, he sat comfortable and confident, his voice firm and ringing clear through the room. Izm’s words were his weapons, like agile daggers slicing through arguments and finding holes in reasoning, then putting the scraps back together to feed back to their owner. </p>
<p>Each little piece of evidence and understanding slowly came together as .D watched the meeting proceed to the final votes. Izm was a brilliant politician, and he was completely oblivious.</p>
<p>When they left the council hall to go and get lunch, Izm was pleasantly flushed about the cheeks like he’d just gone for a pleasant run. .D ran a tired hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. </p>
<p>“Well, what did you think?” Izm was grinning, but .D had learned that he was always doing that. More than that, he was up on the balls of his feet, hanging on .D’s response. Looking for some kind of approval.</p>
<p>.D grimaced. “I think half the people in that room want you dead.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. I hope you die (I hope we both die)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The three scenes in this chapter feature the same characters, but are scattered throughout the timeline.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the fuck was that?” </p>
<p>Caleb demanded, the slamming of the wooden door, the protest of its hinges, punctuating his words. </p>
<p>Rire stared down at the ink splotch on his paper. The scritch of the quill when he jumped. He deliberately placed his fractured quill to the side and began sprinkling the paper with sand to dry it before he looked up at Caleb.</p>
<p>“Do northerners not understand the function of doors?” His tone was always unfailingly polite, so much so that it presuposed rudeness on anyone he addressed. Since returning to the capitol with Rire, Caleb had the questionable pleasure of seeing other people respond to that slick demeanor, the knowing smile. It made him think of how his mother would mix medicines with a cup of frost wine so the sweetness of the berries would trick him into swallowing the foul powders. </p>
<p>“Shove it,” Caleb planted his hands on the end of the writing table, amused to watch it shift under his weight and send Rire’s implements rolling. “You told me your man was a shoe in. A guarantee.” </p>
<p>“Patience,” Rire murmured, deftly returning his workspace to the organized layout that it was before Caleb upended it. He laced his fingers together, the ice blue stone on the ring marking him as the regent for the north reflected the light of the wide window. Caleb was certain he was twisting it to and fro just to remind him. “I told you at the beginning of this venture that this would be difficult. I would have preferred if we had a man in for the prince’s bodyguard, but there were always variables.”</p>
<p>“Variables,” Caleb scoffed. “What do we know about this guy? Can we get him out of the way? Get him on our side?”</p>
<p>“Well, I suppose we could try bribing him, if you want to dip into the north’s coffers,” Rire’s bright eyes narrowed just slightly, his polite smile turning smug. He knew just as well as Caleb that there wasn’t much to pull on now. Caleb frowned darkly. “Thought so. As far as who all we really have are rumors. Stories. I don’t put much stock in those. But he put on quite a display during the competition, don’t you think?” </p>
<p>“I think I’ll put my sword through him just as quickly as I will you, if this doesn’t work,” Caleb didn’t have to put his hand on the massive sword hilt at his shoulder to make the threat, the low tones of his voice and the dents in the wood varnish beneath his hands worked well enough.</p>
<p>“I’m sure your mastery of the subtle art of diplomacy will get you far without me,” When Rire smiled with teeth, instead of the soft curve of his lips, he looked like a snickering wolverine smirking over a dead dove. “Why don’t you run and sharpen your sword, and stay out of trouble, while I see what my contacts know about Izm’s new bodyguard.”</p>
<p>~~~~~</p>
<p>“It seems our prodigal prince is returning to us,” Rire folded up the missive, creasing it twice. “In one piece.” </p>
<p>“You’re kidding me,” Caleb growled. He had finally dispensed of that absurd wolf pelt, and was dressed for the weather in the capitol city. His clothes were more fitting for a soldier than a nobleman, but Rire was only going to waste so much time civilizing his wildness. At least until there was a throne to put him in. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“Tragically, our prince was attacked on the road by a team of brigands. One of them managed to invade his carriage, but met a quick end within,” Rire frowned and fed the folded letter from his informants into the candle on his desk. “That last piece is particularly lucky for us. That means there is no interrogation awaiting him.”</p>
<p>The reassurance didn’t seem to matter to Caleb who made a rude sound, sucking the air between his tongue and teeth. Disgusting habit, but one that served as a warning for Caleb’s inevitable anger. </p>
<p>“This is stupid,” Caleb pushed himself away from the desk, the chair skittering across the stone floor but managing to stay upright. Rire could see the muscles in his shoulders tensing and knotting in time with the clenching and flexing of his hands. “No one is that lucky.” </p>
<p>The redhead rounded on him, hands planted on the desk and letting his height and size do half the talking for him. In their time together Rire had learned that Caleb was clever if not intelligent, but he relied primarily on his natural gifts to do most of his work. Faced with a problem he couldn’t stab in the back and throw down a gorge, he got frustrated easily. </p>
<p>“Or that skilled-” Caleb added in the face of Rire’s politely bored expression. “I’m sick of this cloak and dagger bullshit. Three months of work and nothing to show for it, I’m this close to throttling him myself-!” </p>
<p>“And being thrown in the dungeon to rot until your execution,” Rire replied smoothly. He watched as Caleb’s face contorted with barely controlled anger, wondering if he would have teeth after this. Then the anger twisted up, tight and furious, and snapped, escaping Caleb in a curse and the glass carafe on Rire’s desk hit the wall and shattered. </p>
<p>Amber liquid dripped down the stone to the shards of glass below. Funny, as out of control as Caleb got, the only things he ever damaged belonged to Rire in some shape or form. He wasn’t as stupid as he looked, only barely. </p>
<p>At least Caleb had the grace to look disappointed at what he had broken, the wasted spirits he would no longer be able to pilfer as his right as co-conspirator. </p>
<p>“I shouldn’t be gone from the north so long. I shouldn’t be away through the winter,” Caleb’s face darkened as though the winter blizzard had taken early residence in his mind. “My men are getting restless. They aren’t doing anything here and their wives and children are alone.”</p>
<p>There was the heart of his problem, after the temper tantrum. </p>
<p>“I can sympathize with that,” Rire stood, now that Caleb’s ire had cooled. He tugged on a cord by the door that led down to the floor below to call a chambermaid to clean the mess Caleb had made. </p>
<p>“Do you?” Caleb scoffed. </p>
<p>“Not the wife and children piece, anymore than yourself,” Rire admitted, half a smirk playing on his lips. Caleb would loathe to hear it, but he needed to be handled delicately. Carefully. His irritation soothed and pride entertained, his tight fisted control stripped piece by piece like a flowerbud pried open before it was ready to bloom. </p>
<p>The secret, of course, was to make it look like he was winning. Pretend his desires were being fulfilled, and he would hand over his control in as easy an exchange as chastity for a wedding band. </p>
<p>“Perhaps you are right,” Rire shrugged half heartedly. There was a polite knock on the door, and Caleb grudgingly let the young girl in. She curtsied casually, not quite recognizing Caleb’s rank considering his dress, and flushing prettily around the cheeks. Rire cleared his throat, and she dipped into a proper greeting. Her face paled as she hurried over to clear the mess Caleb had made. “Your men are restless. They have a certain kind of experience...perhaps we should use that. After all, northerners are experts at hunting rare game, are they not?”</p>
<p>Caleb let out a bark of laughter, he seemed amused by the light subterfuge of discussing their plans in front of the help. It was the simple things, Rire presumed. Whatever worked. </p>
<p>“I’ll arrange a hunting party then,” Caleb smirked. </p>
<p>The chambermaid finally finished gathering glass and sopping up whiskey. With both gathered into her apron she stood and glanced questioningly at Rire. He dismissed her with an easy flick of his fingers, and she dipped into as appropriate a curtsey as she could with her burden. </p>
<p>She dipped another half curtsey to Caleb, red as a strawberry again. Something he obviously didn’t miss the way he watched her leave. </p>
<p>“Don’t get distracted.”</p>
<p>“Has to be something. We just lost all the entertainment you had to offer,” Caleb snorted, gesturing at the slowly drying stones. “I’ll gather your hunting party. By the end of this week someone’s head will be on a plaque.”</p>
<p>~~~~~</p>
<p>“Are you enjoying the festivities?” </p>
<p>Rire’s greeting was met with the cold disdain it deserved from Caleb. The councilman’s presence was more than enough reason for Caleb’s diminished entourage to make themselves scarce. The pocket of somber quiet on the edge of the party remained, maintained by Caleb’s own frosty aura. </p>
<p>“Was your mother unable to send you any suitable formal attire on short notice?” Rire asked, when Caleb didn’t respond to his first question. Again with his ability to inject pure venom and disdain into his words, while his expression remained perfectly agreeable.</p>
<p>Rire was so in his element that it left an oil slick on Caleb’s tongue. Silks and satins and finery. Understated colors, and only a careful few gems on his fingers, but each crafted with attention and skill that spoke volumes of their cost. In contrast, Caleb’s blue linens that barely covered chainmail rings made him look like Rire’s hired muscle. If not for the thick iron circlet over his head, and the white pelt he had gratefully pulled over his shoulders again. </p>
<p>That and the ancient sword worth everything Rire was wearing, and possibly himself.</p>
<p>“You and I both know this is formal for the north,” Caleb growled around the golden rim of his cup. Say what you wanted about the quality of southern spirits, they made up in quantity. A thick rotation of servants ensured everyone had full plates and full cups. </p>
<p>He even spotted Killian’s chambermaid flitting about clearing tables, pressed into service with what looked like every hand in the castle to handle the crowds. Killian, though he could now walk and the recurring numbness in his left hand had passed, was holding down the fort. His face was the most known to the prince and his bodyguard. But he was also the fastest of them, in case he needed to flee north if something...unexpected happened tonight. </p>
<p>“Indeed,” Rire touched his own fluke to his lips, but didn’t drink, probably maintaining the illusion they were politely discussing their regional politics. Which was half right. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that tonight is your last chance. Things get much more complicated once the crown is placed on that boy’s head.” </p>
<p>“Can’t do it if he doesn’t have a head,” Caleb muttered, already tired of Rire reminding him how important it was that their last plan pull through. As if he wasn’t aware. </p>
<p>“Don’t be reckless,” Rire’s too sharp eyes dug into him briefly, a keenness that eroded what little trust remained into dust. Caleb was quite certain that if he was caught in the process Rire would happily turn the key in the lock of his cell. “You already look like you dressed for a fight. You can’t afford to look more guilty. My political sway isn’t such that I can bail you out.” </p>
<p>“I did dress for a fight,” Caleb’s smile was more a baring of teeth. “I’m wearing chainmail in case I get attacked. Considering how many people want to stick a knife in your guts, you should have started a long time ago.” </p>
<p>Rire smiled, taking one step closer so he could pat Caleb on the arm in a gesture that would have seemed friendly to anyone watching. The scant distance between them let Caleb identify the scent of woodsmoke and amber, which was far too close for comfort. </p>
<p>“You and I both know mail doesn’t protect you from being stabbed, my Lord Donahue.”</p>
<p>And he stepped back, pleasant smile still firmly in place. His bow was elegant, ostensibly bidding farewell as he returned to the pleasantries the party had to offer. Caleb watched him go, thumb idly rubbing against the pommel of his sword, worn away from generations of the same. </p>
<p>The threat of a double cross had always hung in the air, but did Rire even intend on keeping him around if they did manage to dethrone the prince?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Mistaken Identity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ever since .D retrieved Izm from a topiary in the early hours of the morning, he watched the prince like a hawk. Jokes on him, because Izm didn’t want to try and escape from his watchful gaze any longer. In that moment .D had become well and truly interesting to Izm, a new and shiny mystery of a person to unravel as best he could. Shortly after, .D became synonymous with safety as the reality of Izm’s predicament came fully to light.</p>
<p>Truly, he would be happy to never be separated from his gallant bodyguard, and his rare secret smiles when he thought no one was looking. </p>
<p>His attachment to .D meant that he hadn’t been able to go out and about in town in disguise any longer. This was the only thing he truly missed, and despite assuring .D that he could contain his natural ostentatiousness, .D was too afraid of Izm being recognized to let him out even with his bodyguard at his side. </p>
<p>While late night gambling was off the table, and so was the city market place after that incident that brought Zeke into their little circle, Izm’s needling and bargaining finally won a little trip. </p>
<p>.D’s riding skills had vastly improved under Marcus’s tutelage and Izm’s enchanted praise. So they left the palace grounds with .D’s swift brown Arabian mare following behind Izm’s eager gelding. </p>
<p>There was a small circle of wooden wagons near the crossroads, an opportunity for the village in the shadow of the city to look through goods that hadn’t been priced for city living. Izm wasn’t in the market for much beyond a new experience, but just being out under the open sky next to .D was a breath of fresh air. </p>
<p>When they neared, a strange cry went up. Izm reigned in his horse, and .D did the same though a little slower. His brow was furrowed and he looked out over the small crowd. One voice differentiated itself from the general din, and it cried, “.D!” </p>
<p>A look of understanding crossed .D’s face, and he instinctively angled his horse perpendicular to Izm’s, who snapped his teeth in mild annoyance. .D dismounted with reasonable grace, and passed the reins to Izm. “I’ve got this.” </p>
<p>Izm fumbled. .D’s inexperience was evident in his behavior, leaving Izm to control two horses while he was still riding one. Or maybe he just didn’t want Izm to see the small forms that separated from the crowd and crashed on .D like an ocean wave. By the time Izm managed to get himself down, and extricate both the horses without either getting too annoyed at the other, .D was firmly entrenched among the children. </p>
<p>“How quickly you abandon me,” Izm teased. But he couldn’t be unhappy. Though he didn’t understand what was going on, he could tell that .D was happy. His voice was all soft, and so were his shoulders. There was a soul melting warmth in .D’s gold eyes that he’d glimpsed as the man spoke with Marcus. If children were .D’s weakness then Izm just might die. </p>
<p>“Apologies,” .D turned that sweet melted caramel look on Izm for just a moment before the candy hardened back to normal. “I didn’t realize this was the caravan I worked with before I heard about your competition. I didn’t want the children to swarm the horses.”</p>
<p>“No, that’s a good idea,” Izm tugged on the reins slightly, getting the horses back ready to follow him. “I’ll go get them tied up and let you continue the reunion~” </p>
<p>When Izm returned to .D’s side, they had set up a little area away from the road and just outside the circle of carts so that they could be loud and rambunctious without being scolded for it. In between the children plying .D for attention or stories, Izm learned that a handful of these children were denizens of the caravan, and the others were locals who wanted to be part of the spectacle. </p>
<p>“.D, tell them how you fought off the king of the pirates!” A girl with near black plaits down her back demanded. </p>
<p>“No, I’ve heard that one so many times-” A boy protested. The little girl who had requested the story looked like she was contemplating pushing him into the dirt. </p>
<p>Looking at the swarms of children around the patient bodyguard, it was obvious how they recognized him so far away. .D was an anomaly in these parts. Most of these kids, even the ones from the caravan looked like Izm. Tan skin, dark hair and eyes (in theory), compact and wiry of frame. In comparison, .D was striking. </p>
<p>“I did not fight the king of the pirates,” .D corrected with an indulgent laugh. “But I did fight pirates. Maybe you want to hear a new story, hm?” </p>
<p>Izm had never seen children quiet and settled faster in his life. He didn’t think such a thing was possible. .D looked up at him, a small questioning glance. Izm shrugged. He was happy to just stay here and watch the intricacies of interacting with little ones that looked at .D as though he was a legend straight from history. However .D entertained them, he didn’t mind.</p>
<p>“How about the story of how I became the prince’s bodyguard?” </p>
<p>There were little excited titters around the circle, which was obviously a yes. So .D began, in a wonderful low and steady voice. He was a consummate storyteller. Even though Izm had been there, he found himself drawn along with curiosity to see what would happen next. .D gestured as though he was wielding a weapon, and he drew diagrams in the dirt within the circle of children, and he embellished just enough to make the story a touch more daring. </p>
<p>.D was constantly stirring new feelings in Izm, generally in the vicinity of his chest. More specifically his heart, which felt increasingly unhealthy, the more intense they were. There was one particular feeling that he had watching .D explain how the prince had held his arm in the air and declared him the victor despite the general upset, and how proud he had felt. It was hard to identify. But there it was.</p>
<p>Izm was no stranger to romance novels of various levels of quality. He had little to do some days, and the printers only printed what sold. Once he had exhausted histories and political philosophies for his tutelage, he had been supplied a glut of reliably trashy literature from a particularly obliging chambermaid. There was a particularly egregious feeling that had always warranted a bit of an eyeroll. A moment, one specific star aligning second of perfection, where people free enough to believe in love say ‘and that’s when I knew I was going to marry them’ </p>
<p>Of course, because they were fantasies, they did get married. And if the book was good there was a salacious wedding night. It wasn’t something he had ever related to. </p>
<p>But there was that moment. .D’s eyes squinting against the bright sun, smiling openly and earnestly, describing his story in a voice reserved just for children. Like everything froze for a split second, and in that moment of clarity Izm thought that if they weren’t the people they were in the circumstances they were...he wanted to marry that man. </p>
<p>“Izm,” .D’s voice took him out of his reverie. “Come on, join the circle.” </p>
<p>Izm scooted forward on his knees, joining the circle next to .D. “What are we doing?”</p>
<p>“Playing," .D answered simply, to a chorus of laughs for Izm’s silly question. “Did you pick up any games in your deprived childhood?”</p>
<p>“I can play chess, and draughts, and about anything else you can play in a tavern for money,” Izm laughed. .D just rolled his eyes, but refrained from any more colorful remarks in present company. </p>
<p>“Deprived,” .D gestured between Izm and a dark haired boy with blue eyes. “Eran, this man does not know how to play Mill. Why don’t you try and teach him so he doesn’t get beat too badly?” </p>
<p>The boy took to his task very seriously, nudging Izm aside so he could draw out the board and explain to Izm how the simple strategy game worked. Izm paid careful attention, and the eleven year old was a bright and able teacher. He was also very sharp eyed, and halfway through their practice match Izm felt like he was being eyed up. </p>
<p>Though not quite in disguise, Izm wasn’t exactly broadcasting his identity. He wore no crown or circlet, or any precious metals. His brown linen breeches were now stained on the knees and tucked into his calf high riding boots, and though his shirt was fine, it was simple and laced up the neck. </p>
<p>“Are you the prince from .D’s story?” </p>
<p>Izm couldn’t help laughing. Figured a kid would make a connection like that. But he wasn’t sure how to respond. “Do I look like a prince?” </p>
<p>Eran squinted at him. “No. But someone’s tryna kill you, right? Better not look like a prince, huh?”</p>
<p>“You’ve got me there,” Izm beamed at the clever boy and nodded. “Between you and me. Don’t go telling nobody, you hear?” </p>
<p>Eran nodded intently, and happily continued Izm’s tutelage until the prince was able to win a game. Around them, the day continued. Izm never ended up visiting the little shop, but he didn’t need to. He was happy to play with Eran and when the boy was called back by his mother, one of the other children. He was happy to watch .D be happy.</p>
<p>After a couple hours, when the sun started to slide back down the other side of the sky, a young woman from the carts approached them with a basket of fruits and bread. .D raised his hand in greeting, and the two of them exchanged familiar words while her twins tugged alternatingly at her skirts and .D’s arms. Izm watched as he idly lifted whichever child attached themselves to his forearm up in the air by a foot. The caravan woman offered her bounty to Izm as well, and they were all happily eating a midday snack while .D and his friend shared road gossip. She definitely eyed Izm curiously, but didn’t ask. .D was such a unique character, having strangers around must not be that notable.</p>
<p>That was until Eran returned, his tired mother dragged along behind him. Izm nudged .D as the woman with her sleeves rolled up to the elbow, hands dusted with flour, eyed him up skeptically. When .D turned, he was able to see the skepticism turn to shock and then to awe. </p>
<p>Izm smiled very awkwardly, and lifted his hand palm out in that half turn of a court wave he’d been taught since just after birth. The woman went white like she’d seen a ghost. Then she curtseyed as well and as deeply as someone in her station would know how to do, flour dusting her skirts. Izm winced and allowed his attention to be taken by a girl trying to teach him cat’s cradle (the children had been vying with each other to teach new games to Izm since Eran abandoned his post). </p>
<p>.D settled Eran’s mother with the whispered explanation that Izm was of course under guard and under cover. This kept a large fuss from being raised, but somehow word still spread. Izm was soon surrounded not just by children, but a handful of their mothers as well.</p>
<p>Once he managed to convince them not to curtsey or bow or fluster themselves about court doctrine and titles, all the while twisting a cat’s cradle nervously, Izm was able to speak with them. The whole thing was awkward. He had made a few public appearances, but he was realizing these women probably never saw a member of the royal family. They were too far from the capitol, and nowhere near an important hub or landmark. This was as close as they were ever going to get to the class of person who made the decisions that affected their lives.</p>
<p>The thought made Izm’s stomach turn. But at least he was making some headway with this little cluster of village women and the two or three who drifted from the caravan. They tittered when he called them miss or ma’am, and he was able to drop into an informal register that he’d patterned off of the serving staff. Though he was finding that the regional dialect was even rougher in some ways. He noted a few new phrases that he’d slip into his card games next time he was able to go out. </p>
<p>The threshold of comfort was met when the first of the women settled an appraising eye on him and said, “You’ll be turning eighteen soon enough, right your highness? You know...my Beatrice is sixteen and--” </p>
<p>She was immediately shouted down by a flurry of other descriptors of daughters who were beautiful or practical or a variety of other qualities. Izm held his hands up helplessly, but ended up listening and nodding and agreeing that yes, probably every single one of these girls had virtues that could elevate her to nobility.  </p>
<p>And then he cast a pleading glance at .D, who extricated himself from his automatic babysitting duty to retrieve his true charge. </p>
<p>“Apologies, but I need to get this errant royal back to his rooms before anyone notices he’s gone,” .D clapped a hand on Izm’s shoulder and gently pulled him back. “Thank you all so much for your hospitality.” </p>
<p>They were held up once again by a gathering of breads or cheeses to be thrown into a cheesecloth sack for them to take back, despite Izm’s protests that they really wouldn’t be needed. .D kept him from protesting too intently. </p>
<p>“Let them mother you,” he murmured, low enough that the women couldn’t hear. Izm was going to reply that they weren’t actually mothering him, when Eran’s mother used the backside of her apron to wipe a smudge of dirt from Izm’s cheek from where they had been playing. He had no argument after that. </p>
<p>“That was so weird-!” Izm exclaimed when they were both mounted and heading back toward the city. The sun was starting to set, but they were in no hurry, their horses enjoying a leisurely pace that allowed them to speak. </p>
<p>“Not really, though I apologize for blowing your cover. I didn’t realize the caravan would know me,” .D could apologize, but the glow in his features remained. </p>
<p>“No, that was fine. That was great, really. I had a lot of fun,” Izm waved a hand. “I mean the end. I went from being untouchable china to somehow adopted by half the town.” </p>
<p>“You have no idea how your story has been spread through the country do you?” .D asked, sounding surprised. </p>
<p>“No? I assume there was an announcement or something, when the royal family passed…” </p>
<p>“Izm, you are an orphan prince. Your parents died under suspicious circumstances, and left you to inherit the throne. You are the tragic hero of every halfpenny romance novel,” .D laughed. “They imagine their own children alone, isolated in a far away castle, of course they want to mother you up for all the years you lost. The fact that you’re the age to dream of marrying off their daughters is a nice perk.”</p>
<p>“Unfortunately for them, if I haven’t already been betrothed since birth or something, I’m sure the council has designs for my eighteenth birthday that involve first daughters and treaties and resources,” Izm rolled his hand over and over to illustrate how endless the benefits his upcoming nuptials might bring to the country. “Some pretty enough noble girl who’s been in competition with six others for the prize of queen if I live to my coronation.” </p>
<p>“You don’t sound excited,” .D observed dryly after Izm’s small rant had concluded.</p>
<p>“Would you be?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I’ve ever considered marriage to anyone.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, well, you’re lucky you don’t have to think about it,” Izm sighed and stroked his hands down the neck of his horse. “I don’t think it’s the marriage part that bothers me as much as how soulless it all is. Someone I don’t know. Who has lived the exact same life as me. Shut up in a big building with people who aren’t allowed to talk to you and every book you could never want to read. How boring.” </p>
<p>“Fair enough,” .D rolled his eyes indulgently. “So. Crown aside. No responsibilities. Who would you want to marry?”</p>
<p>Izm hesitated, because the answer was there. He’d had the answer earlier that day, and it was edging on the tip of his tongue. But instead he pulled that thought back into the dark and secret parts of his mind. Some fantasy to enjoy when he could, when the real thing wasn’t here anymore. </p>
<p>“I’d want to marry someone who has done all the things I never could. Someone with stories and scars and experiences. Someone different enough that they could be all the parts I’m not, and I could be theirs. That’s what it’s supposed to be, I think.”</p>
<p>“If only everything was how it was supposed to be, hm?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. We are our own coffins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The roof of the carriage split apart in a shower of splintered wood and a shredding of waterproof leather. .D grabbed Izm by the front of his shirt and hurled him to the floorboards, hoping he had the sense to slide under the benches to hide. </p>
<p>.D’s first thought, watching the assassin drop through the roof, brandishing a handaxe, was that he’d known this was an awful idea. He had said so, made his case in front of the council, and this was proving him right.</p>
<p>His second thought, as the assassin jerked a dagger from a leather thong wrapped around their thigh, was that the unit of guards intended to protect them on their journey were absolutely useless. </p>
<p>The carriage lurched violently, and all three of the occupants stumbled. .D heard the tell tale hum and whistle of arrow fire, carried to them through the carriage’s new skylight. The clash of metal against metal followed. At least the soldiers were earning their keep somehow, dealing with the assassin’s accessories.</p>
<p>The assassin recovered quickly from the carriage’s jolting about, rolling to their knees in the space that wasn’t meant for any full grown person to stand. .D drew his own knife, (dull iron, the damascus steel dagger Izm presented him with didn’t deserve to be soiled by blood) to deal with the close quarters. He would prefer not to use weapons at all with Izm so close, but he couldn’t fend off an axe and dagger with just his hands. </p>
<p>Izm was pressed up against the door to the carriage, waiting for .D’s signal should he need to flee into the melee. His face was white as a sheet, but his expression determined, .D couldn’t help feel a little surge of admiration. </p>
<p>There, in the gap of his attention. .D managed to divert the overhead blow of the handaxe, sending it skittering, but the follow up jab of that wickedly curved knife hit him in the side, causing him to stumble back against the torn velvet covered seats, his knife lodged in the floorboards. It only took that half second for the assassin, twisting the knife around in their hand for an overhand blow, to kick aside the little table .D and Izm had been playing cards on. The game pieces scattered across the floor, falling in a second that took an hour for .D as his brain replayed Izm shyly admitting he got claustrophobic in long carriage rides and suggested the distraction. </p>
<p>.D hadn’t thought anything of it, other than surprise at Izm admitting any kind of vulnerability like that. Maybe one of those soft swells that had been happening more recently, thinking about Izm trusting him with that information. </p>
<p>But now as he probed his injury and assessed it non-lethal, and struggled back to an upright position, the crumpled blood stained cards brought everything together for him. Izm’s set jaw, white knuckles around the knife he kept under his clothes since the attacks started, the way his eyes looked past the assassin and into the distance like he wasn’t really there. What little .D had gleaned from Izm about his parent’s last hours, and the much more forthcoming recordkeeper.</p>
<p>.D’s blood slicked hand gripped the handle of the axe, feeling the swirls and dips of the wood grain. The royal family had almost crossed over into the northern region when they were set upon by brigands, fighting through their retinue and driving their carriage off the road into a dry riverbed once every coin and piece of value was stripped from them. It was a miracle to find the little prince, shoved under the bench seats, curled into a tiny ball. Shrapnel from the broken bottom of the carriage had missed him by inches. None of the blood was his own. </p>
<p>“Hey, you’re okay...it’s over,” .D’s voice was hoarse though he couldn’t remember speaking or making any noise through the savage fight that had lasted only two or three minutes. Izm’s face was tucked into his neck, his rib cage expanding and falling with no rhythm. The prince flinched as the carriage shook, the loud thump of a body hitting the side and then falling away. “It’s all right. They can’t get you.” </p>
<p>Izm nodded, pressing tighter against .D’s chest. Then he jerked back, his face twisted with such horror and alarm that .D thought they were due another assassin. But no, Izm brought his hand to the light of the moon that filtered through the hole in the ceiling, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.</p>
<p>“You’re bleeding!” .D couldn’t help but smile. Izm’s tone was accusatory. How dare .D be injured. But at least it distracted the prince from his own panic. He didn’t know what it said about him that he favored his own injury over Izm’s distress.</p>
<p>“I am. It’s not serious,” .D assured him. </p>
<p>“You don’t know that!” Izm insisted, pushing at .D to try and get a look at the jagged cut that had sliced through his leather jerkin and into his side. “What if their weapons were poisoned? We know they’ve been trying that.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it was definitely poisoned,” .D grimaced as another spasm hit his stomach. The pain made him nauseous, but like hell was he giving Izm another reason to fuss at him when he should be concerned about himself. “But Ren’s been helping me develop a resistance to some of the more common ones. This should pass.”</p>
<p>“Are you crazy?”</p>
<p>“To be honest, it’s a great business investment. I’m lucky he considers it part of the contract you’re paying for,” .D smiled, hoping the light teasing would continue to distract Izm from the dregs of the fight outside. </p>
<p>“Wait…” Izm narrowed his eyes at his bodyguard, idly wiping the blood on his pants. “Shouldn’t I be doing that too?”</p>
<p>“Ren’s been slipping it in your food the past month, so you’ll be caught up to me in a little while,” .D said offhandedly.</p>
<p>“What?!” Izm patted his abdomen down like he would be able to tell that he’d been dosed just by feel or thinking about it. </p>
<p>“He’s nuts, that’s why we hired him.” </p>
<p>Izm must not have had a response to that because he started fussing again, looking around the destroyed carriage for something to staunch the bleeding on .D’s side. .D let him for a few moments, whatever was distracting, but a knock on the carriage door took them both out of their mutual reverie. </p>
<p>.D ushered Izm behind him and unlocked the door, thankful to see the haggard face of one of the guards. </p>
<p>“Your grace?” She looked over .D’s shoulder, and when Izm waved to indicate he was in one piece she sighed like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. “Thank all the gods. We are treating our wounded, and then we will return to the capitol. If we take a detour to Brighton we can pick up another column and ensure safe return--”</p>
<p>.D held up a hand to stop her, “Please just prepare two horses. We’ll make better time on our own and be less of a target. Especially if you can find a change of clothes for his highness.” </p>
<p>The guard looked from .D to Izm, who nodded firmly. “As you wish.”</p>
<p>Alone now, .D turned to the other piece of unfinished business. Izm had been avoiding the assassin and the blood spattered bench they had fallen on, but .D crouched directly in front of it. Without much hope, he unwrapped the face coverings that revealed a pale face with short blonde hair. The eyes were closed, but the face held the lingering warmth of life. When .D probed further, pressing his fingers to the hollow of the assassin’s throat he felt nothing. </p>
<p>“Dammit,” .D spat in disgust. </p>
<p>“What’s the matter?”</p>
<p>“They’re dead.”</p>
<p>“I mean...you hit them in the back with an axe, and also...they’re not trying to kill me now, so no complaints,” Izm grinned weakly. </p>
<p>“I know, but since we caught one and they “mysteriously” offed themselves, I’ve been wanting to catch the next alive,” .D was still muttering swears in between his explanation as he searched through the tight fitting clothing for any other hints since the assassin was permanently silent now. </p>
<p>What he was really frustrated about was his complete lack of professionalism. These little slips were understandable considering how long this contract had lasted, and he rationalized several of them by saying they helped Izm trust him and feel more comfortable, and they didn’t interfere with .D’s actual work. </p>
<p>But this...he glanced up at Izm, sitting on the cleanest bench with his knees pulled up to his chest. For a split second .D saw a world where Izm didn’t send him that furtive glance. Didn’t smile when he was caught and wink widely like it was all just a game for the two of them. In that moment, the reality hit him. Izm could die. And it wouldn’t just mean he failed, an innocent life lost, his credit ruined. It meant he would lose this shining piece of his life, a star extinguished forever, the night sky darker. </p>
<p>He got sloppy. He acted rashly, out of fear. Out of the desperate desire to keep Izm alive and safe and happy and smiling up at him. </p>
<p>This was going too far. </p>
<p>“You good?” Izm squinted at him across the dark confines of the carriage. “That poison isn’t worse than you said, is it? If Ren’s done a half assed job and gets you killed, I swear to god-”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, just tired,” .D assured him, laughing softly at the threat Izm wouldn’t carry out. He had zoned out halfway through the search, but it was looking like they had nothing. This assassin was smart, only carrying what they needed. Which made it strange when .D passed over a distinct shape under the wrapped fabric behind their knife harness. “Izm...I’m sorry to ask this, but...is this familiar to you in any way?”</p>
<p>Izm leaned in close to look at the piece .D held out to him, and .D’s heart sank watching Izm realize what it was. He wished he could keep the whole thing secret, but he had to be certain the ring was what he thought it was. It was a more slender version of a piece of jewelry he had seen Izm wear any time he spoke in public or before the council. </p>
<p>“That’s my mother’s signet ring.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Exotic Wares From Across the Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The neurotoxin should provide full body paralysis for upwards of thirty minutes,” Ren explained, showing the other boys how to apply the tincture to the edge of one of .D’s daggers. The liquid left a slight darker sheen along the fine edge of the blade. </p>
<p>“That should solve at least one of our problems,” .D said, while Izm turned the dagger over in his hands curiously.</p>
<p>“I’d be careful, a few of the frogs that I tested this on had permanent localized paralysis. I don’t know if that would translate to people, but…” </p>
<p>“Ren, you are terrifying sometimes,” Izm was happy to surrender the knife to .D so he could wrap the blade in a soft cloth and stash it away. </p>
<p>Ren smiled pleasantly, stoppering the vial and handing it to .D with the instructions. “I’m just taking advantage of the situation to experiment. It’s been fun.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess you don’t get much of this as an alchemist in town,” Izm planted his chin in his hands.</p>
<p>“What did you end up doing most of the time?” .D asked. His meeting with Ren had been a fluke, a brief interaction before he offered Ren a temporary position helping keep the prince alive. He rarely worked off intuition, but Ren had proven invaluable. </p>
<p>“Oh, the standards. Medicine for colicky babies, luck charms, crop additives,” Ren shrugged as he enumerated his old tasks. It was obvious which he found more intellectually stimulating. “Can’t complain. Got good traffic from superstitious locals who can’t tell foxglove from hemlock in search of exotic remedies from across the seas in the mystical east.”</p>
<p>Ren wiggled his fingers in mock mysticism. Izm snorted and .D rolled his eyes sympathetically. The central continent had a lot of traffic from elsewhere, but that only broadened their horizons so much, trading bigotry for rumor and ignorance. </p>
<p>“Make any love potions?” Izm asked once he had composed himself, sliding his elbow casually across the table to insert himself between Ren and .D’s interaction. </p>
<p>“Sure, I’ve made a handful,” Ren returned to the bored expression he held when talking about the mundanities of his old job. “When I couldn’t convince them otherwise.” </p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Love potions don’t exist,” Ren said with finality, rolling up his instruments in the custom made satchel that Izm had commissioned for him.</p>
<p>“Oooh~” Izm’s eyes sparkled as he caught on. “What’s in a ‘love potion’ then?”</p>
<p>“Ipecacuanha, mostly.”</p>
<p>Izm glanced questioningly at .D, who had the translations for Ren’s weird terms about half the time.</p>
<p>“Ipecac, it’s an emetic,” .D supplied. Then sighed as Izm just squinted further. “It makes you throw up.”</p>
<p>“Drink this before you meet your beloved to be irresistible to them,” Ren’s voice took on a shoddy faux mystic affect. He drew himself up in his seat with the fullness of his height, and actually pulled off a fair air of authority. “But be warned, if you approach them with bad intentions, the magic will punish you.”</p>
<p>“How did you know if they had bad intentions?” Izm asked, cringing as he imagined the effects of that potion. </p>
<p>“Anyone who’s willing to threaten an alchemist to force someone to love them has bad intentions.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Fox Hunting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The quarters that housed Caleb’s retinue were attached to the outer circle of the castle complex. Though he had a room of his own, Caleb frequently found his way there instead. His men at least were free of the superfluousness and frippery that grated on him in the south. Everything done in the proper time, in the proper way, from eating breakfast to murdering the crown prince. </p>
<p>Well, now he got to take the latter into his own hands. </p>
<p>Caleb entered the half empty barracks without knocking. Its new inhabitants had moved the empty beds to the back to make room for a common area that they spent much of their time in. All three greeted him with firm nods and those with drinks raised them. </p>
<p>“At ease,” he said, and the younger two return to their card game. Caleb leaned against the door frame, watching.</p>
<p>“What news, sir?” Doran’s sharp gaze, the same cold near transparent blue of a glacier, could always tell when something was on his mind. Having served under Caleb’s father, Doran got a lot of practice unraveling the idiosyncrasies of the noble family. A man in his late thirties, he already had a few peppers of silver in his well trimmed beard. Likely from the tight years under Caleb’s predecessor.</p>
<p>“None, as usual. Our lord prince will be returning to the warmth of his bed on the morrow,” Caleb scowled. </p>
<p>Hayes made a noise of disgust and threw his cards on the table, scattering the small wooden chips they were using in lieu of coins. “This kid sell his soul for this kinda luck?”</p>
<p>With short dark hair and grey eyes, Hayes was the picture of a northerner. All broad shoulders and rough unpolished attitude. His wife just had their first child and he chafed at the distance while his daughter grew up. The expedition, while dangerous, was an opportunity to afford a better life for them both. He had been pushing the hardest to know when they could go back home. Presumably to try for a son next. </p>
<p>“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Caleb said, arms crossed and brow furrowed. “Not like he got it from his parents. I know you’re all eager to get back north, I’m working on it.” </p>
<p>“Not Killian,” Hayes perked up at the opportunity to tease the younger of their group. Killian had just crested nineteen, but he’d won his pelt years earlier than most boys. His family lived halfway up the mountain and he had proven his strength and tenacity at fifteen in that dangerous area. </p>
<p>Killian just raised his hand of cards to cover his face as though they were still playing. Despite the snow leopard pelt draped across the back of his chair, he rarely raised a voice to defend himself against the older men. Out of shyness or deference, it wasn’t clear. “Leave it alone. I’m ready to get back…”</p>
<p>“Oh? So ready to leave the arms of your little sweetheart?” Hayes was laughing even as Killian threw his cards at the man’s face.</p>
<p>“What’s this?” Caleb asked, trying to decide if he was annoyed at the distraction or relieved. </p>
<p>“Killian’s got some servant girl sweet on him,” even Doran’s voice held a note of amusement. </p>
<p>It wasn’t hard to see why Killian got that kind of attention. He was young, with soft brown eyes and lacking the scars and other signs of hard life most northerner’s carried. Even his hair was unusually light for the north. Not the fire that travelled through Caleb’s family line, but a gingery blond. </p>
<p>“<em>Very </em> sweet,” Hayes said, his tone dripping with lewd implications. “Didn’t think you had it in you kid, but she is <em> smitten</em>. You bringing her back with you?” </p>
<p>Killian’s face pinkened, either the topic or Caleb’s presence sending him into defensive stutters. “It’s not that serious. I didn’t do anything special-”</p>
<p>“It’s because southern men don’t know how to treat their women,” Doran nodded sagely, taking a swig of his drink. </p>
<p>“It’s because southern men are a head shorter,” Caleb corrected, dragging back the remaining chair to fall into it while the other three laughed at the double meaning in his observation. He propped his booted feet up on the edge of the rough hewn wooden table with a thud that nearly toppled the abandoned game. “Don’t get too involved, we don’t need a keen eyed serving wench tipping anyone off.”</p>
<p>“Sir,” Killian sat bolt upright in his chair, taking the chastisement with no complaint. </p>
<p>“The serving staff have been the best source of information since we got here, indiscretions aside,” Hayes smoothly took the attention off the youngest of their party. “Better than that snake tongued nobleman, at least.” </p>
<p>“Nobility ignores servants, they’re like wallpaper,” Doran clicked his tongue disapprovingly. The hierarchy was much more stark in the south, it had made winnowing for information difficult for the three fighters. Especially trying to stay discreet.</p>
<p>“What’ve you heard?” Caleb held out his hand and a full cup fairly materialized into it. </p>
<p>“Relevant to us? Little, unless you count gossip about our noble benefactor,” Hayes rolled his eyes. The brief interaction the three of them had with Rire was polite, bordering on friendly, but made clear he didn’t consider them much more than moving muscle. </p>
<p>“Let’s hear it,” Caleb was constantly disappointed with the bite of southern spirits, and yet he constantly tried. </p>
<p>“His position representing the north has given him the leverage to irritate half the members of court. He’s been benefiting off us for years,” Hayes said bitterly. “Don’t see that’s much different than any of the other smug nobleman here.”</p>
<p>“Got a mean streak,” Doran spoke up in that low growl of a voice, speaking slow and careful. “The downstairs is full of whispers about the handful of times he’s lost his temper. Whispers of a different kind too, but everyone’s tight lipped about it. Lookin’ out the corner of their eyes. I don’t trust him, sir.” </p>
<p>“None of us trust him,” Hayes waved a hand, brushing away the idea. “Is this alliance really necessary, my lord?” </p>
<p>“Until I’m sitting on that throne, it is,” Caleb replaced his feet on the table with his elbows. He hadn’t missed the more formal title along with Hayes’ protest. Caleb had been Lord Donahue for a year, but they were still feeling him out. “After that, I’ll kill him.” </p>
<p>They all nodded, agreeing that was obviously for the best. </p>
<p>“Killian, you’ve been quiet. What’ve you got?” The younger man jumped like Caleb’s green eyed gaze had burned him. </p>
<p>“Oh, uh…” Killian wet his lips, fumbling to put his thoughts together in front of the three of them. “I’ve heard the prince sometimes sneaks out in disguise to go into town.” </p>
<p>The revelation was met with silence bordering on disbelief. </p>
<p>“Where’d you hear that?” Hayes demanded, giving the other boy a cuff on the shoulder that would have dropped him if he didn’t have the bulk of a northerner. </p>
<p>“Carina, she-” By the other two’s response to the name, Caleb could assume this was the girl Killian had shacked up with. “Stop it! She heard the prince and his bodyguard arguing over it. So maybe he doesn’t go out anymore.” </p>
<p>Hayes was rubbing his knuckles against Killian’s scalp, lamenting that the youngest of them brought good information through luck and a cuter face, Doran watching in amusement, when Caleb rapped the table top with the bottom of his cup. The three of them immediately settled, their attention on Caleb. </p>
<p>“That little fool won’t listen to anyone. I’m sure he’s still finding his way out,” Caleb cracked a dark smile. “You’re all getting rusty shut up here. How about a fox hunt?”</p>
<p>The three of them readily agreed, eager to solve this problem on their own terms and bargain a way back home once Caleb was on the gilded throne. Caleb spent the better half of the hour telling them what he could remember of the prince. What information he had gleaned from their brief summer together, what no one else could know. </p>
<p>“You’ll have to wait for a killing blow. He won’t give you a second chance,” Caleb warned, moving wooden chips about with his fingers to illustrate. “He’s an idiot, but he’s fast. Never seen someone climb a tree faster.” </p>
<p>“Sir, how will we know?” Killian’s voice was firmer now that his find had proven useful. “If he’s in disguise? His own people don’t even recognize him if he can sneak through town.” </p>
<p>“That’s because they’re <em> looking </em> for a prince. Izm doesn’t look like a prince unless he’s wearing enough gold and velvet to choke. He looks like a scrawny pickpocket,” Caleb gestured two fingers toward his eyes, drawing attention to them. “This is how you tell. Red eyes have been passed down that family for generations. They say it’s the royal blood. Let’s see if they’re still red when we drain it all out.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Just can't wait for love to destroy us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I just need a day where I’m not the prince. Please, .D, I’m suffocating in here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the assassination attempt that left .D injured and Izm shaken to his core, the prince had been in almost a total lockdown. His friends had done their best to keep him company and lift his spirits, but Izm was chafing under the added restrictions. Plus the stress of the looming coronation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In all honesty, he didn’t expect .D to capitulate to any argument, but that finally convinced him. Maybe it was the desperation of Izm’s request instead of the logic of his argument, but at this point the prince didn’t really care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D consulted with Zeke and Ren, and finally settled on a brief outing into the town nearest the castle. After what happened the last time they were in the wilderness, he wasn’t comfortable straying too far from the city. Nearby, he could hopefully rely on the city guard if needed. Izm watched the planning discussion with detached interest, pitching in his own knowledge after years of sneaking out of the castle to run and be free of the responsibilities that were his birthright.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was this going to be his life now? Two days of strategic planning when he used to just drag on some hand me down clothes from the elder stable boys and disappear into the thick of the city. Part of him wanted to slip away during their talking and planning. It all just reminded him of how much freedom he had lost in his last year before ascending to the throne. Like pissing in a man’s last meal before the gallows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As though he could sense Izm’s thoughts, .D clamped a steadying hand over Izm’s. That wasn’t fair. Izm would stay there until the castle crumbled around them if it meant .D holding his hand, rubbing his thumb along the tops of his knuckles like he didn’t notice he was doing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your schedule is clear tomorrow afternoon, sound good?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! Please,” Izm tried not to look too eager, but failed miserably, making the other two boys laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can cover for you,” Ren said. “We’ll eat your dinner, in payment~” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As long as you’re not gone too long,” Zeke agreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys are the best,” Izm laughed, happy and lightheaded with the prospect of a day outside and the warmth of .D’s hand on his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The city was loud in the best way. Mothers calling their children indoors, merchants hawking wares, criers announcing the most recent news for the citizenry. It was a din you could lose yourself in, and Izm took to it like a fish in water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D had to catch his hand to keep him from rushing ahead so often that in the end they just held hands. That suited Izm just fine, and he used their proximity to tell .D all about his capitol city. His bodyguard hadn’t been able to take in many of the sights since he had been awarded his position almost immediately. Izm hadn’t walked them that frequently either, but he knew the history and the layout and his pride was evident in the way he talked about his people. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Down there are the docks, obviously,” Izm stood on a cobbled together stone wall, gesturing to the extensive structures embracing in the bay that made up the lower level of the city. Tall masts and rolled sails swayed with the pull of the tides, and the breeze brought the scent of fresh salt to the rest of the city, covering much of the stench generally associated with several people in close quarters. “They’re too far to get to and back when I’ve snuck out, so I’ve only really seen them from afar.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D’s gaze lingered on the ships, a mix of crafts including a few from the east, for only a moment before looking out at the ocean. The low afternoon sun sparkled off the water, making it look like the crests of the waves were sprinkled with diamonds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s funny,” Izm dropped down to sit on the wall instead of stand, leaning his shoulder against .D’s. “You said you grew up in the western steppes, but with your mercenary work, you’re a lot more familiar with the ocean than I am.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re more familiar with politics, diplomacy and trickery than I am,” .D said dryly, plucking at the homespun linen Izm was wearing. Izm had delighted in showing him the transformation from start to finish, and doing the same for him. .D was going to stand out a little no matter what, but Izm made him as unassuming as possible and .D found ways to hide weaponry amidst the illusion. “I’m sure that will serve you better than my seafaring experience.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just said the same thing three times,” Izm laughed. He couldn’t stop smiling. He felt good, like he could finally breathe when he didn’t realize he was suffocating. .D at his side just made things better. A tiny sliver of normalcy, a look at what might have been. “I just think its ironic, this big city by the sea, and I can’t even swim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D turned sharply, brows furrowed like Izm just told him their lunch had been poisoned. “What? Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, no one ever bothered to teach me,” Izm shrugged, gaze following the docks to the strip of sand that wound out of sight under the ledge the castle was built upon. “When would I have been to the beach? Or out to sea?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we’re going to have to fix that,” .D’s expression relaxed into his normal thoughtful frown, trying to solve whatever problem had been presented to him. “As a matter of national security.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s gonna have to be in my bathtub with my movements so restricted,” Izm dropped off the side of the wall, reaching out to help .D do the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D took advantage of Izm’s assistance, then used his hold on Izm’s hand to twist his arm behind his back. Izm let out an undignified sound of surprise, and .D released him, letting Izm step away and stretch his twisted wrist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yet another transparent attempt to put me in a compromising position.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah well, better luck next time,” Izm laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t push your luck.” But .D smiled and that was really all Izm needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The city square in the middle of the capitol was a mosaic of dark basalt and bleached limestone. The intricate pattern was a marvel for travelers, and a mundanity for the civilians. With little care for the artistry, shops and stands stood over the stone and lined the sides of the square. The shops ranged from near permanent fixtures extending from the buildings behind them, to little carts that the owner parked in an open space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of the stalls in the square sold food, enticing passersby who were trying to reach the marketplace just beyond. Izm happily dragged .D through now that evening was encroaching, and Izm’s stomach was protesting how long ago lunch was. .D yanked him back so that he could see the full array of twisting tile, and Izm rolled his eyes so forcefully his head fell back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“.D, you look like a tourist, come on,” Izm tugged his hand again, since by extension he would also look like a tourist. “Someone’s gonna try to pickpocket you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They can certainly try,” .D said flatly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So scary~” Izm snickered and pulled .D toward the food booths once the bodyguard consented to be moved. Izm could practically feel the carefully hidden intensity in .D’s gaze while he watched their surroundings and kept a watchful eye on his charge. He was pretty good at looking casual while he was actually on high alert, but as the subject of his concern Izm could tell. He’d felt that a lot recently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D had no input on their dinner, so Izm picked a well established stall that made meat stuffed bread buns. They could hold them while they walked, and the heat of the venison and vegetables stuffed within would ward off the cooler breezes coming off the ocean. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>True to his word, .D caught Izm’s wandering fingers as the prince tried to lift the cost of the meal from his coin pouch. Izm faked shock and regret and happily counted out the copper pieces from his own stash of small coinage that he kept along with his ‘on the town’ clothes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you think Ren and Zeke are doing?” Izm asked after the third overlarge bite of his dinner quieted his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They probably appreciate the night off,” .D replied, gaze flicking up to the lights of the castle above them for just a moment. “Though, Ren is probably still testing dinner, since it’s meant for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How annoying,” Izm’s delicious meal was accompanied by the indulgence of not having to worry about whether or not it was full of arsenic. “But they get to eat our dinner plus theirs to make up for it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That will be fun until Zeke pushes himself to finish all of it because he doesn’t like wasting food,” .D said with an indulgent sigh. Out of all of them, he and Zeke seemed to understand each other best, both from a class of people that worked with their hands to put dinner on the table and little more. Izm was learning. “Then as the night winds down, Ren is going to try and convince Zeke to try something he’s mixed up and Zeke will try and get him to play a game instead. They may or may not ransack your room.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They won’t find anything fun,” Izm waved his free hand. “I don’t have much opportunity to collect anything incriminating.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure they’re fine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one’s raised the alarm yet, at least,” Izm agreed. By the time they finished off their walking dinner, they were in the thick of the market. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the last rays of the afternoon sun waning, the lantern lighters were out and the street was almost as bright as daylight. The upcoming evening meant most laborers were free, and the streets were crowded with people of all ages and ethnicities. Even .D wasn’t the only visitor from the far west, and there were more than a few of Ren’s countrymen walking the stone streets. Amongst these were visitors, craftsmen and minor nobles from the surrounding regions under central rule. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm was practically vibrating with excitement. He almost always had to sneak out well after dark when the only real nightlife was found in bars and various dens of iniquity that every large city had to have. That gave him a very limited experience in his own city. This was completely new. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D kept a firm hand on Izm’s elbow, a less intimate place that would garner less attention from those around them than their previous handholding. Izm understood the necessity but missed the neat way .D’s fingers fit between his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm flitted through the market as best he could with the crowd, while .D shadowed him. With .D keeping an eye out, and feeling more relaxed in a crowd than he did alone on the throne, Izm was free to think about more important things. Like whether or not he would be able to buy .D a gift without him noticing. If he did, it would have to be something he could hide on his person when they snuck back into the castle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Decisions, decisions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm was wrapped in that internal debate when a swell of the crowd pushed the two of them up closer to the booths. Izm stumbled slightly on the raised stone. He would have righted himself without issue if he hadn’t collided with what felt like a mountain of muscle and leather, a man distracted by the imported weaponry hanging in the booth to the side of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry-” The young voice that came out of the stranger’s mouth didn’t match his physique. His face showed open concern as he tried to help steady Izm. The prince waved away his helpful hands, dismissing the incident as inconsequential. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it,” Izm grinned up at the stranger. He was just a bit larger than Zeke, his ginger hair cut in a similar close shorn style. In another circumstance he would have liked to strike up a conversation. The boy was obviously from out of town, even if he dressed in regional style, and Izm was ever curious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I should be more careful…” The sentiment trailed off vaguely, the man’s brows slowly furrowing as he examined Izm’s face. Izm had done an excellent job looking the opposite of what people expected. His clothes were one step up from street urchin, his hair pulled back with a leather tie except for his messy bangs, and he’d used a stash of cosmetics to give himself the worn mussed look the nobility lacked. But here was one thing he couldn’t disguise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm’s chest clenched with the sudden realization just as .D grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him backwards into his arms. A split second later and he would have been locked into the tall man’s grasp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Killian?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Several things happened in quick succession. Another impossibly tall man clapped a hand on the accoster’s shoulder. The bearded man followed Killian’s gaze to Izm and caught on much faster than his young friend did. He put a hand on the hilt of his unnecessarily large sword and Izm could see the situation rapidly deteriorating as yet a third member of the group slid into view as the crowd parted around him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm shrugged his way out of .D’s grasp, ignoring his swearing bodyguard who was trying to drag Izm behind him. But there was no way he was going to stand by and let .D try to handle this on his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry I can’t stay and chat,” Izm’s grin was stiffer than normal, hoping the sound of his voice would make them pause just for the split second he needed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of coins bouncing across the multicolored pavement was loud and clear enough to be heard in the din of the market crowd. Izm dropped his torn coin purse in favor of grabbing .D’s hand and darting through the crowd that was just now realizing that money had been spilled all over their feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trio of assumed to be assassins was in the way of any retreat back to the castle, so Izm pulled .D in the opposite direction. Hopefully their distraction would buy them the time needed to fade into the crowd again. Then a loud clear voice rose over the mulling of the citizenry scooping up rolling coins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Theif-!” One of the dark haired men had drawn his sword to point at the two fleeing forms. Well, they weren’t nearly as stupid as some of the assassins Izm had come up against. Didn’t they just look the part? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd parted around the two of them, offering no refuge amongst the press of bodies. No one wanted to be between the angry foreigners and whoever had been stupid enough to try and steal from them. Someone began calling for the town guard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit-” Izm swore as the trio began closing on them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Move!” .D urged, shoving him forward and scrambling to follow behind him. Forever keeping himself between Izm and whatever steel was pointed in his direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm didn’t hesitate to do as .D demanded, taking off as fast as his legs could carry him. Despite their larger, presumably less agile, forms, their pursuers closed ground quickly. They weren’t thrown when Izm took sharp turns through narrow alleys, and they didn’t slow or lag when .D kicked crates or debris they passed into their path. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite his better judgement Izm glanced behind them. The light haired one was missing. He was about to point this out to .D when someone grabbed his wrist and nearly pulled his arm out of its socket to yank him into a twisted alleyway. Izm heard .D shout in alarm, but couldn’t see him. Killian, he’d heard the other man call him, twisted Izm’s arm behind his back so far that his wrist sat between his shoulder blades. For good measure he grabbed a fist full of Izm’s hair, popping the tie, to keep the prince from trying to twist his way out of his grasp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out any external stimulus so he could find a way out. Anything that would keep .D from having to fight three men nearly twice their size. Maybe something that could keep him from being killed in the process.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard a near inhuman noise, and then the air was knocked from him for the second time that day as the man holding him sagged and collapsed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D dragged Izm out from under the prone form of his captor. Izm shook his hands to ease the sting of the pavement and looked around to figure out what happened. The man was oddly contorted, limbs positioned wherever he fell, and wide terrified brown eyes darted to and fro. Tears collected in the corners. Along his cheek was a fresh red cut seeping blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ren is fucking terrifying,” Izm muttered, tripping on himself as .D urged him forward again. There was an angry cry behind them as the other two discovered their companion. But that only gained them the time it took for them to check his pulse and maneuver around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you kidding me,” .D breathed angrily. He was out of breath, and Izm was beginning to feel the burn in his lungs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you do that again?” Izm asked, gesturing behind them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D looked over his shoulder and shook his head, “Not without reapplying. It wasn’t meant for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dammit,” Izm ground his teeth. Then, struck by a thought, he gestured .D down a different path. One that would bring them closer toward the residential sector of the city. “Gimme the knife.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just told you it won’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have an </span>
  <em>
    <span>idea</span>
  </em>
  <span>, give it up!” Izm insisted. .D must not have had the energy to argue, or he actually trusted Izm’s thought. The act of handing over a knife mid run was more challenging than Izm anticipated, but they managed and before long they emerged in the winding streets of the residential sector. The turns were tighter, and the quarters more narrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get ready to sprint,” Izm warned as he saw what he was looking for. He skidded to a stop under one of the large awnings that served to shield the family from the noon sun when they entertained. .D eyed him uncertainly as he sawed at one side of the wood and fabric structure. The uncertainty became outright fear when Izm waited until both of their pursuers were within arm’s reach to release the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The structure collapsed immediately, not meant to hold against harsher treatment than the wind and rain. Thick canvas and splintered structural supports rained onto the two. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm didn’t wait to check his handiwork, just pulled .D into one last deranged flight through the twists of sandstone and pavement. After they were at least three turns out of view, Izm pulled himself up the first tier of the belltower, hoisting .D up after him. The two of them clambered to the top of the structure, sheltered from view in the shadow of the rounded belfry. There, they were finally able to rest, laid out on their backs in the narrow space underneath the bronze bell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Izm finally said when he had enough breath to talk. Next to him .D let out a surprised noise of amusement, so he continued, rolling over to prop himself on an elbow. “I’m getting really tired of my life flashing before my eyes, you know? It’s boring the eighth time, I haven’t had time to do anything exciting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This wasn’t exciting enough for you?” .D quirked a little half smile, his golden eyes sparkling in the last rays of the sunset. The adrenaline was slowly leaving them with just anxious humor and shaky laughter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was nothing~” Izm grinned and nudged .D’s chest with his knuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quick thinking at the end,” .D said, suddenly looking anywhere but Izm’s face even as he complimented him. There was barely enough space for the two of them to lay out and they were practically breathing each other’s air. “You’re not bad in a fight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re pretty quick on your feet,” Izm slipped the tip of his tongue out playfully. “You were running like you actually stole something.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well. Practice,” .D shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both laughed, and even if the ends were cracked and uncertain it felt good. Like they were in a safe warm little bubble overlooking the city, some tiny scrap outside of time where no one could find them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that’s why. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Between one breath and the next, with only a heartbeat’s width between them, falling the rest of the way was so sweet and easy. Easier than slipping into warm water, easier than dropping from a tree knowing the softness of the grass below would welcome you. It may have been the easiest thing Izm had ever done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the hazards of his occupation and the gruff exterior he maintained, .D was surprisingly soft. His hair, his skin, and definitely his lips. All of which Izm eagerly explored, encouraged by .D’s right hand twisted into his windswept hair and the left that had hold of his shirt collar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm had only let himself consider kissing .D in brief moments. Any longer, any more hope would just be painful when the mercenary finally had to move on. But that was fine. No fantasy could live up to the reality of .D’s welcoming kiss that made Izm’s stomach twist and his heart hammer against his chest like it might escape. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they finally parted, Izm couldn’t tell if seconds or years had passed. He let .D catch his breath, and admitted he had to do the same, but he didn’t release his tangled embrace. There was a pretty flush over the saddle of .D’s nose and the curve of his cheeks. The color, and the fact that Izm was close enough to count his eyelashes if he wanted, made it easy to see the scant dusting of freckles. Izm hadn’t known they were there, but now that he noticed, he loved every single one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were a lot of reasons to love .D. And Izm had all of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D let Izm’s hair flow through his fingers, then ran his thumb along the curve of Izm’s jaw in the same moment. The feel of his bare skin left a warm spark everywhere he touched. That distracted Izm just enough for .D to lean back and sit up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm propped himself up on his elbows and studied the set of .D’s shoulders, the curve of his back. Neither were molded of iron the way they were when .D had closed himself off, so Izm didn’t let himself panic just yet. Instead, he sat up next to .D, dangling his legs off the edge of the belfry. His heels kicked at the stone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D was staring out over the city. The sun had sunk low enough that it no longer played across the rooftops or reflected across the metal or marble dappled through the city. The last brilliant orange slice hovered over the horizon as though it was drowning in the ocean and throwing slices of pink and purple into the sky in a desperate plea for rescue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Izm jumped when .D spoke. The tenuous silence that contained their messy affections bursting. “Those three seemed more organized than what we’ve encountered so far. But I don’t think they were assassins. They had the bearing of soldiers more than anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d be the expert on that,” Izm muttered, swallowing any bitterness that might have colored his response. He couldn’t blame .D for returning to the matter at hand, that was his job of course, but he wanted to linger for just a few more moments. “But I think they were from the northern province. The two dark haired ones, at least.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s something, at least. They stood out, so I think I should pursue that investigation,” .D nodded, then shot Izm a sheepish smile. “Not that I know the first thing about your regions, outside this one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get you some information, whatever there is up there. They keep to themselves,” Izm almost had everything nice and packed up and labeled and organized. Going back to the pseudo friendship they had now that he knew exactly what it was like to be wrapped in .D’s arms was really unfair. He was so wrapped up in the effort it took that he nearly missed .D’s shy questioning look. It inched across the space between them before carefully settling on Izm’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. I wanted to have next steps in place before I got too distracted.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? Do I distract you, my stern serious bodyguard?” A grin split across Izm’s face, hope swelling twice as quick as disappointment had crept in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You distract everyone in the room with you,” .D said scathingly with a roll of his eyes. But the expression softened before it made its way back to Izm. “But yes, you distract me. And that scares the shit out of me, because I don’t want that to be the reason I make a mistake and lose you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re never going to be able to get rid of me,” Izm promised, eagerly closing the distance between them again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blissfully, .D accepted his attention and even looped his arms around Izm’s waist to hold him steady. .D was always holding Izm careful and steady and strong, the iron in his spine supporting Izm through everything he had been living through. There was nothing Izm could possibly give him in exchange for everything that could measure up. So, he would give himself, and that would have to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm cupped .D’s face in his hands, keeping him impossibly close. .D made a soft breathy noise against Izm’s mouth, opening just enough for Izm to slip his tongue through and get a taste of him. He smelled like sweat and leather and sweetness, a surprisingly enticing cocktail. Mixed with the feel of .D’s tongue sliding against his and .D’s fingertips dancing up the skin of his back, Izm was certain that kissing .D was more intoxicating than any liquor known to man. And he was happy to drown in it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck’s sake!” The dry voice echoed in the center of the bell, making the exasperated curse sound much louder than it was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm and .D sprang apart. The arousal spinning in Izm’s gut had half turned to fear by the time he realized that the middle aged man in a city uniform was not one of their pursuers. Beside him, .D had the grace to look embarrassed to be caught in such a position. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Every week with you kids,” The man gestured for them to get away from the edge of the belfry and toward the stairs he had just ascended. “Find somewhere else to neck and watch the sunset. This campanile is property of the Crown, you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm snorted at that, and the bell ringer cast him a murderous look. .D ducked his head apologetically, and dragged Izm toward the stairs before he lost himself in the hilarity of being ousted from his own property in his own name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what I thought. Kids these days, no respect. No discipline in this regime.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They could hear his grumbling as the two of them descended the stairs that Izm had neglected in favor of climbing the face of the tower. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On street level the sun had well set, and the streets were lit intermittently by old lanterns so that citizens could go about their evening activities. Behind them the bell began to ring. Clear beautiful tones travelled through the city to mark the time. After the seventh, the quiet that settled was comfortable enough that Izm and .D set their steps toward the castle without many words between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was good, because Izm was busy memorizing the feeling of .D’s fingers locked in his. They felt different now. Everything felt just a little different now, lights a little brighter, the air more crisp, and he was certain that food would forever be altered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ever since this whole mess started, Izm had to live with the knowledge that his days might be numbered, that he might die tomorrow. He had felt all different ways about that reality, but the fact remained no matter how he felt. That knowledge had changed the way Izm interacted with the world, it had made him scared, it had made him reckless, it had encouraged him to reach out for any friends he might be able to gather. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, it shifted his perspective, altered the life path that he had accepted after having it hammered in by his parents and every other adult throughout his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he might die tomorrow, then by god, he was going to have .D by his side for however long he had left. If that was a week, so be it. And if he lived past his coronation to rule this country, then he was going to keep .D with him for as long as the man would stay. Politics be damned.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Cultural Exchange</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, Zeke?” Izm dropped down onto one end of the plush couch in the lounge of his suite. The sudden movement transferred to the other side, jostling the taller boy who somehow still managed to tie the slice of feather to the end of the arrow he was fletching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Izm?” Zeke never had an issue dropping Izm’s formal title, not since day one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re from up north, aren’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question drew the interest of .D, who was likewise maintaining his weapons. He glanced up, his golden eyes sliding across Izm’s face, making the prince flush. Izm knew the look was probably just attentiveness, recognizing that Izm was fishing after their attackers. But Izm was having a hard time looking at .D and not thinking about kissing him. Even harder now that he knew what it was like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Depends on what you mean by ‘up north,’” Zeke replied, setting his sights down the arrow to check the fletching was even and would keep his arrow flying straight. “I was born in the north of the central region, before the narrow pass to the actual north.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can’t make you a love potion either,” Ren said dryly from behind the pages of a book that he had obviously pilfered from Izm’s room the night before. Izm could have sworn he had returned the trashy thing to its source, but there were worse people who could have found it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shame. But I’m actually fishing for real information this time,” Izm protested lightly. Appearance wasn’t always a good judge of someone’s heritage, but Zeke’s dark hair, light eyes, and the span of his shoulders were iconic northern traits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad’s northern. Hence-” Zeke gestured a circle around his face. “ But I’ve only been a couple of times when I was younger to meet the grandparents. It’s not really a vacation spot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can imagine,” Izm grimaced. The occasional flurry fell in the depths of winter, otherwise, the closest he had been to the snow and ice were the flavored ice shavings served at parties during the warmer months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just been marinating on that for the past eight months, have you?”  Zeke raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got jumped last night,” .D said from his place on the floor, sharpening his weapons over a cloth to catch the metal shavings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of,” Izm agreed. “But it didn’t seem premeditated. More like they ran into us and gave chase when they recognized me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell us that when you got back?” Zeke asked, eyes skimming across Izm’s form like there were going to be hidden injuries they hadn’t noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were both asleep,” Izm said, smoothing right past the fact that he and .D mostly wanted to shut themselves up in his bedroom and wrap themselves up in each other after the harrowing night. “Anyway, it wasn’t that big a deal. No one got hurt, except the guy .D stuck with the paralysis knife.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, you used it?” Ren’s eyes lit up and discarded the novel on the side table to slide down onto the floor next to .D. “How was it? How long did it take to take effect? Could you see how long it lasted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While .D fended off Ren’s inquiry, complete with procuring a notepad from his pocket, Zeke turned back to Izm. “You think they were northerners?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, there’s only so many places that make people in your size,” Izm laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ren’s just as tall as I am!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but he’s-” Izm held up his hands in parallel to illustrate Ren’s leaner form. Ren threw a piece of writing charcoal at him, narrowly missing his head. “Anyway, it was a conglomerate of things, but I’m pretty sure they were northern. And I’ve been attacked heading that way too. I know some of the history and high level politics, but I don’t know anything about the current climate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cold,” Zeke replied with a little laugh for his bad joke. “In more ways than one. Northerners are sort of a reserved people, guess it comes with the territory. Down to earth, very straightforward, observant of the social hierarchy. Takes dad a couple weeks to warm back up after he visits.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you have a northerner on your council?” Ren asked, finally finished wringing .D of information for the informal human test of his poison. “That you could ask these things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ve only really met one northerner,” Izm vaguely remembered, but that was in the before times and most things there were hazy. “Ever since I was old enough to sit on the council it’s been Rire. He’s their representative, since apparently Lord Donahue doesn’t want to make the trek down south anymore. And I really don’t want to have long in depth conversations with him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh…” Zeke had moved on from his arrows to running wax along his bow string. “Wonder how that went over after he died.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Izm blinked. “After who died?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The late Lord Donahue who would have been the representative before you were on the council, his son’s been in charge for about a year and a half?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t that old when I met him,” Izm’s brow furrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He probably got eaten by a big fuck off bear,” Zeke said in the same matter of fact tone he used to declare food burnt. “That’s the thing, northerner’s don’t die of old age very often. That’s part of what makes them so odd. Between predators, the mines, the cold, and straight up starvation there’s a lot after them. Probably why they’re focused on strength. Have to hunt for food, and be strong enough to make it back home, protect your family with your life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a raw deal,” Ren looked exhausted just by the concept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can get like that in the steppes,” .D said, brow furrowed as he reapplied the paralytic to his knife. “Hot. Not much food, can’t really farm there. Mostly game hunting and trading with the other regions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The north mainly exports metal and gems, and sometimes furs,” Izm could regurgitate that much at least from his tutors and picking up policy discussions in the council. He always felt weirdly out of touch among his friends who had lived in the greater world and experienced things he could only study or hear about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. All of which are pretty dangerous to get,” Zeke nodded. “But everything’s been harder since the sanctions. That’s part of why my parents settled here, so mom could retain her citizenship and all the kids too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sanctions?” .D asked, probably adding that little piece of information to the endless catalogue of factors that might be leading to continued assassination attempts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Izm looked past .D to the wall, eyes squinted slightly as he recalled what he could of the history from a time before he was born. “After the north seceded and was brought back into the country there was a limited import on weapons and other regional items.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like the food they traded neighboring regions for in exchange for ore during harsh times,” Zeke slowly tested the pull of his bow, pulling only halfway to ensure the string was pliable enough. “Secession came after they stopped exporting ore, because the ore they provided became weapons and they didn’t like how frequently those weapons got turned on them. Then the king and the council came in and settled everything. It was a whole messy thing, but it’s been a generation of resentment. That’s basically all my grandparents talk about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what you’re saying is...basically anyone from the north might want to kill me, because of something my dad and a bunch of old guys decided?” Izm laughed, but he was shell shocked by the sheer amount of information he was missing without even knowing. His education had been mostly history and statecraft, the realization that each region and every other country had its own deep and intricate political situation made his head spin. It was too much for one person, which was probably the purpose of the council, when they weren’t wrapped up in their own internal politicking. “Unrelated, but is it too late to abdicate and go into hiding? Ren, does your country take political refugees?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not from your country,” Ren replied easily. “You’re all crazy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s another place to look,” .D said brushing over the teasing with his serious tone. “Somewhere to start at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the eighth time,” Izm sighed, annoyed that the high of the previous night was already being dragged down by reality. “We better hurry, we’ve got two months left until my coronation. And I feel like things are going to get worse the closer we get.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Maybe we're both lucky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“This is ridiculous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You say that about everything,” Izm replied, sitting cross legged on an overstuffed ottoman and watching the barest outline of .D’s form through the screen. .D’s hands were on his hips, likely surveying the several garments presented to him, but Izm couldn’t see any further detail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Considering the likelihood that someone tries to murder you during the coronation, I think armor would be more practical,” .D’s arms shifted, crossed in front of him. Izm wriggled in place, impatient for .D to start trying on the formal wear that Izm had requested for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit, I know you can hide half an arsenal under a shift,” Izm brightened when he heard the sound of loosening leather straps. “Anyway, I think it’s a good show of unity. There’s going to be a bunch of dignitaries from other regions and countries. Ren’s going to be in his traditional garb, it’s not like you’ll be alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ren’s national costume is part of his business model,” .D muttered. But his undershirt was tossed over the top of the screen, his shadow slowly going through the motions of changing. “I doubt you thought that far ahead when you had someone gather up all of these from god knows where.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right, I just wanted you to look nice,” Izm grinned. Now that .D seemed amenable to the idea, he could barely sit still. There were sherwanis of various different colors and cuts, but all of them were finely made and fit to .D’s size and form. He had imagined .D in each and every one, and he had a couple of favorites. But now that it was within his grasp, Izm just wanted to see .D step around the screen. “I thought up that excuse afterward. But it’s true.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re awful,” .D’s voice had been saying those words softer recently. Izm could hear the indulgent roll of .D’s eyes in the tone of his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm was so caught up in that little observation that his thoughts didn’t even stray toward the suggestive when he saw .D’s pants drop through the screen. The preparations for his coronation in the next couple weeks had kept him unreasonably occupied. His days were filled with political maneuvering, continuing the investigation of the assassination plot, and the actual party planning he had to contribute to. With the torrent of responsibilities, there was little time to feel out the raw new relationship between himself and his bodyguard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that didn’t stop his thoughts from turning to the soft pads of .D’s fingers across his skin, the honey of his eyes that melted when he looked at Izm, the taste of his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was driving Izm crazy. Crazy enough to orchestrate this personalized torture for himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D’s sigh was heavy with resignation. The shadow outline set his shoulders before stepping around the screen to present himself to Izm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rich gold of the brocade contrasted with .D’s smooth dark skin in a way that made his eyes seem otherworldly. Izm’s estimated measurements passed onto the garment makers were nearly perfect. The fabric fit snug and clean across .D’s shoulders, embracing his torso like a lover, as though it had been sewn around him instead of for him. Under Izm’s wordless scrutiny, .D fidgeted with the hilt of his sword, belted around his waist, the heavy leather a stark contrast to the delicate winding embroidery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will be visibly armed,” .D’s voice held a stubborn warning tone, like that was the issue keeping Izm quiet, instead of how painfully good looking he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mind,” Izm said flippantly. He rose slowly to his feet, like .D would leave if he moved too quickly. Maybe he would. He certainly looked more nervous than Izm had ever seen him. Including when he had weapons waved in his face. “You look good.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm’s fingers trailed the pathway of the embroidery from .D’s waist up his chest, alleviating his jealousy of the threads that got to press so close. His fingers laced behind .D’s neck, pulling him close so that Izm’s lips could press at the line of his jaw, the edge of his lips. “Really good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he felt .D’s hands settle on his back, Izm closed the distance, eagerly pressing their lips together in a kiss that felt like it had started in the belltower and was being continuously interrupted by life. Izm was happy to reacquaint himself with the softness of .D’s lips and the sweetness on the tip of his tongue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They parted after a breathless couple of minutes, seconds, hours? Not long enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess this is the one,” .D laughed nervously, unable to hold Izm’s heated gaze for longer than a few moments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s great,” Izm agreed, letting .D have enough space to breathe and let the blood drain from his cheeks back into the rest of his body. He gestured at the garment, inching away so he wouldn’t wrinkle it. “I mean, obviously I like it. You’re so good looking sometimes it makes me too stupid to speak.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s an impressive feat, considering how stupid you can be on a daily basis,” the return of .D’s dry tone meant he was feeling more comfortable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, right?” Izm laughed. He tugged on the collar of the sherwani. “Okay, take this off before I take it off for you. You’re too powerful like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s a good thing I wear it for the ceremony,” .D mused, disentangling himself from Izm. “If it makes you actually listen to me, we might keep you alive yet.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm let .D go with a laugh and another quick kiss, so that .D could change and he could try to reassemble his heart from the puddle it had become.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Party Favors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>.D couldn’t decide how he felt about Izm in the finery draped over him for his coronation. The cut and construction was finer than his own, though the gold and red were mirrored in the crushed velvet and gleaming threads. The deep red complimented his eyes, standing out against the cream of his skin and the dark of his hair. A shiny conditioned black that curled around his face and brushed the sable black fox fur draped on his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some part of him was occupied with just how much effort it took to make a prince ready for his coronation. It was a wonder protocol allowed Izm to bathe himself that morning. .D had trailed along with him to everything, keeping an eye out for unfamiliar faces or unusual behavior. Izm was fed bites in between his hair being combed and set and fit around the gold circlet that would eventually be replaced by a crown. Crushed herbs were rubbed onto his skin to lend their scent, along with stranger rituals whose purpose was lost to time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other part was running through every word he had read or heard to try and find the right one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Handsome? Pretty? They both fit different parts of him, but neither was quite right, and the more elaborate words were too embarrassing to consider. Izm was great with words. He probably had at least ten for .D in his formal clothes, judging by the way his eyes tracked where .D moved. Like he was the one guarding .D’s back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This seems like a choking hazard,” .D said, hefting the thick gold chain that rested on Izm’s chest, attached to the mantle of fur and brocade. He was falling back to practicality in his uncertainty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’ll have to wait until after the coronation,” Izm returned, tongue peaking slightly between his teeth, eyes gleaming with amusement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re awful,” .D breathed, letting his hand fall and rest on the hilt of his sword. But he couldn’t chastise Izm. If his coping mechanism was defaulting to flat pragmatism, Izm’s was laughter. “Come on, let’s get you crowned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I have to-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was the most and the least like himself Izm had ever been. He bore himself with a confidence that made him glow. He was personable and chatty and smiling, and almost none of it looked fake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was hard to think of Izm as a prince now, after everything. But he played the part well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a skill .D envied, Izm knew almost everyone who approached him to offer their congratulations and well wishes, despite never having met most of them. The last time he had met half of the dignitaries and foreign ambassadors or royalty would have been when his parents were sitting the throne. When he was a child. Ren quizzing him during lazy afternoons about which princess was from where and what political motivations she had must have paid off. .D had retained none of it second hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Izm greeted each with the same level of respect and enthusiasm, a formal line and a few additional personalized just for them. The only time his bright and beaming mask faltered were the few condolences he received. Attendees who had known his parents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both were with him in a ceremonial position, Izm had explained when he took up his post. On either side of the throne in the formal hall were enormous outgrowths of roses. One with petals striped in red and white, and the other a soft cream with the edges barely dusted with pink. The rest of the hall was decorated with Izm’s particular breed. The darkest red .D had ever seen, woven together into impossible shapes, at the center of tables in the dining area, petals scattered in the water features. All lending their heady aroma to the beginnings of the celebration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many hours until midnight?” Izm asked quietly during a brief lull. His only show of weakness in the past hour.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five,” .D answered, standing just behind him as an honour guard, the naked steel of his sword out of place with the festive atmosphere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Izm practically threw the swear so that his face was bright and smiley and composed as he greeted the next dignitary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm was still technically seventeen. He would be crowned at midnight when one day passed to the next, and he became a man in the eyes of the law. But the occasion still necessitated a party. So at sundown the castle threw its doors open, and Izm was sat down to greet everyone who had come to wish him well in the hopes that their actions would reflect positively in the political field. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not much longer here,” .D soothed softly, able to see further than Izm could from his raised vantage point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Izm spoke to a tall slender person clothed in diaphanous fabric and elaborately set hair, .D looked out into the crowd of just as alien people. He had seen a lot in his travels, but this didn’t really compare. Apparently Izm’s coronation was much more of an event since the country had technically been rulerless for seven years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Amongst the crowd, slowly dispersing into other rooms and halls set up for the event, .D was able to pick out Zeke and Ren. They were sticking together in a mass of strangers, and he couldn’t blame them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like Izm had told him, Ren was dressed traditionally in several folds of silks and threads. Zeke looked slightly uncomfortable in a set of clothes commissioned for him when it became clear he didn’t have anything with him that would suit the dress code. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the flow of guests slowed to a trickle, Izm would be freed to walk amongst the party goers and they could reunite with their friends. That would be safest, since any potential attack would come between now and midnight. If the motivation of the assassins was to prevent Izm assuming the throne, which was a guess at best. But if they made it that far, everyone would breathe a big sigh of relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then it would just be the drag of the party unwinding. .D was already thinking about ensuring the house staff got to keep anything that would otherwise go to waste. Though, he might be able to stash something nice for Marcus directly. He would be excited to hear about all the details, and would definitely enjoy one of those delicately iced pastries (or ten).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Attention split for long enough, .D returned to watching the line. No need to get distracted imagining the conclusion of this mess before it was actually over. Then he would have to deliver his earnings and put out for another contract…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D ground his teeth and forced himself to focus. His mind was determined to pull his attention in the best or worst direction. But he managed to keep the conflict off his face and watch Izm lean forward with interest as the next person approached. He was hard to miss, tall and scarred, with flaming hair and a thick white wolf pelt across his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think he’s involved?” Izm asked in a snatch of freedom, .D’s stony faced expression discouraging any further well wishers while Izm tried to get enough calories out of tiny bite sized foods. There was a banquet hall for more extended dining, since the guests would be there late into the night, but if Izm sat he would be trapped by convention. They couldn’t afford that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t see how he isn’t,” .D replied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The northerners were easy to see, even without the benefit of the dais. Through the shifting mingling crowd they stood a couple inches over most of the locals. .D would be the first to admit that in the wild run through the marketplace he didn’t examine the faces of their pursuers. But his trained mind caught snatches. Enough to confirm the two men at Lord Donahue’s side were familiar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It fits too well, unrest in the north, historical conflicts. Our friends over there,” .D nodded in their direction and shifted so that Izm could peek over his shoulder subtly. The man who had taken up a fistfull of Izm’s hair and received a face full of Ren’s poison in return wasn’t present. Maybe he was a victim of the lasting effects Ren spoke about. .D wasn’t sure he cared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Missing one,” Izm noticed too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. So unless this is being orchestrated under his nose, he at least condones the actions,” .D wasn’t sure which political angle would be required to imprison the northern lord, the maneuverings of this country were murky at best. His foray into politics so far was teaching him that a battlefield was much less complicated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get the impression he’s a tight leash kind of guy,” Izm’s face was a twist of thought, throwing out quips while .D could see gears turning behind his eyes. He didn’t care for that, considering the type of behavior that normally followed. “We’ve figured there’s definitely going to be another attempt tonight, right? Probably before the coronation?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, let’s go,” Izm dusted his hands and gestured for .D for follow. One of the few imperious gestures that reminded .D this man had been raised from birth for people to listen to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are we going, exactly?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm turned and grinned over his shoulder, the devious expression couched in black fox fur. “I’m going to spring the trap before it clamps down on my leg~”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he was gone, slipped away as easy as the first night .D caught him sneaking out of the palace. The prince navigated the floor of guests and servants easily, sliding through the press and stopping only when necessary on his way to greet the scowling Lord Donahue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D’s chest constricted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Zeke-” The hunter was surprised to be pulled out of his conversation, but responded to the urgency in .D’s voice. .D gestured in the direction of the hornets nest Izm was about to kick. “Keep an eye on me. I move, you move. Call the guard.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D shot him a grateful look and slid through the crowd after Izm. As no one of notice, he wasn’t stopped, and caught up to the wayward prince easily. He would have preferred having an arrow trained between the man’s eyes during the conversation, but this would have to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t fault Izm’s logic, but wished he wasn’t using himself as the bait to spring the trap.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Don't kill me slow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, can we talk for a second?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice had changed since he’d last heard it, up close and personal, not several feet away skulking in a crowd. Lower, smoother, the diction trained and practiced, that same lilt at the end of the sentence that hinted at a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm’s smile was just as carefully crafted as his speech. He stood before Caleb with a particular kind of diplomatic confidence. Hands on his hips, red eyes flinty and alert. The confidence was impressive or stupid, considering Caleb didn’t see his little bodyguard anywhere near. Stupid was the default. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna talk?” Caleb asked, the end of one thick eyebrow raised, the only change in his expression. This was a significant deviation from the plan, and Izm’s expression wasn’t giving Caleb any information. His presence was suspicious, but Caleb had been suspicious about the last ditch plan since it was laid out to him, suspicious of this whole thing since he left the north behind. Did he want to play along? Or did he want to take the opportunity to grind Izm’s face into the mosaic floor for his trouble and go home? “Fine. Let’s talk.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Little privacy?” Izm suggested, crooking a finger for Caleb to follow him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wound through the grand hall to a corridor lined with small private balconies, serving as a place for guests to take in the night air and each other’s company. The stone platform jutted from the castle walls, a protective curl of iron stood at waist height around the edge. The balcony looked out over the royal gardens. For most of the party goers, this was as close as they would get to stepping foot in them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beyond was the forest, more of a grove, really. From this height Caleb could see how the trees had been planted deliberately, evenly apart, the undergrowth trimmed and maintained so it wouldn’t snag the prince’s ankles when he traipsed through. He could also pick out the slender aspen tree that Izm had climbed until he was stuck, causing a panic amongst the house staff. They had plied both children with pastries and sweets so they would keep the event to themselves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Been a while, hasn’t it?” Izm asked. He followed Caleb’s gaze, smile widening just slightly when he found what Caleb was looking at. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb made a noncommittal noise. The observation was unworthy of a response. Instead, he circled the balcony with his eyes, noting the size and structure. Noting how Izm leaned his lower back against the railing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there he was, the notorious bodyguard. Caleb had only seen him from afar, and up close he wasn’t impressed. The man wasn’t that much bigger than Izm, in height or girth, and he dressed in gold cloth instead of any kind of armor. Though, there was a sword at his right side, and this blade wasn’t bound to its sheath for security like Caleb’s was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I probably should have made more of an effort to keep in touch,” Izm said, unperturbed by Caleb’s silence as always. The prince shrugged, fox fur lightly brushing his cheeks and mingling with his hair. His bodyguard leaned against the arch separating the balcony from the rest of the hall, arms crossed and staring straight ahead. He radiated a sort of quiet menace that Caleb could appreciate if not respect. “But, having to take over for your murdered father takes a lot out of you. You know how it is.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My father died in a hunting accident,” Caleb said flatly, a response he’d given enough times to be rote. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, is that what you’re saying?” Izm’s face retained the same placid diplomatic expression, even with the added insinuation. God, Caleb was tired of politicians. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get to the point,” Caleb growled. The second his voice raised, gold eyes flicked to stare at him. On the receiving end of a look that promised death with the same icy certainty of an incoming blizzard, Caleb made an annoyed sound and lowered his voice. Just a notch. “Don’t you have better things to do than bother me with small talk?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just trying to offer my condolences. Or my congratulations, I guess, since that makes you lord of the north,” Izm said smoothly, dipping into a little mock bow that made Caleb grind his teeth. “Good luck. At least you don’t have to deal with people trying to kill you every other week. I mean, I’m not supposed to let on that’s happening, but that’s what .D over there is for.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm fluttered his fingers at his bodyguard, and when .D glanced to meet his wave, he winked flirtatiously. Caleb’s gag was internal, his eye roll external. The fact that they hadn’t been able to successfully wring the neck of someone so empty-headed and frivolous was stomach turning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Must be good if he’s kept </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> alive,” Caleb returned. Not only was Izm incapable of staying out of trouble, he was the most innately murderable person Caleb had ever met. Second. Second most. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s great,” Again the glow in Izm’s eyes and the curl of his lips said far more about the bodyguard than Caleb cared to know. Then the prince let out a scornful laugh. “But honestly, it’s like whoever is looking to off me isn’t even trying. Maybe it was scary the first couple of times, but now? I think I’m just bored of it. It’s hard to be intimidated when they’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad at it--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm’s laugh was cut off by a strangled gurgle. The gold chain that held his fur and mantle in place was gripped tightly in Caleb’s fist, twisted so the links were tight up against the soft creamy skin of his throat. The sight of panic in his eyes was eminently satisfying. Especially when Caleb grabbed the belt at his waist for leverage. The view over the balcony was breathtaking, and the fall would be as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The taste of victory and sweet release of self control soured after only a handful of moments. The sound of iron yielding to steel was grating, and it was followed by the very familiar feeling of metal piercing flesh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Put him down,” .D’s voice was just as cold as Caleb had imagined from his eyes. The bodyguard had forewent the time and finesse of a sword and was gripping a dagger in both hands. The end of which had slid past Caleb’s tunic and the links in his mail to spill a steady stream of blood from a gouge right above his left kidney.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb’s experience killing both animals and men taught him that a stab in the kidney, no matter how deep or rough, was not a killing blow. But it would incapacitate anyone from a man to a wolf. And likely kill him eight days later from infection anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear the arrival of several sets of feet, likely the guard, as he shifted to drop Izm onto the floor instead of the ground. The movement sank the dagger dangerously further in his flesh, but the bodyguard removed it just as quickly when Izm was released. The swirling patterned blade was abandoned between them. The prince’s eyes were watering, and he coughed and sputtered, touching at his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Choking hazard,” he said hoarsely, tipping a finger at .D like he was awarding him a point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You. Stupid. Idiot.” Each word from the bodyguard’s gritted teeth was punctuated by a punch to the prince’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb reflexively put a hand to the wound on his back, it came away bloody but wasn’t so large that it would cause any lasting damage. With the guard filling the balcony, he briefly wondered if he could survive the jump, but several flashes of steel pointed to various soft spots made the decision for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They made neat work, forcing him to the ground, binding his wrists and arms and stripping him of his weapon. Caleb kept his gaze fixed to the soft grey of the stone floor, his fury slowly cooling over like a crust on magma. The anger flared again when Izm knelt down in front of him so they could look eye to eye. Humiliating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry about that,” Izm cleared his throat and then flopped down cross legged on the ground so he was a proper head shorter again. “I promise I didn’t grow up that rude, but I thought this would be easier for both of us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go to hell,” Caleb muttered, ready to tune out Izm’s gloating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Caleb,” Izm ducked his head so he could look directly in Caleb’s eyes while Caleb tried to look at the ground. “Who’s working with you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I’m a snitch,” Half between disbelieving and insulted, Caleb actually looked up. He found Izm’s face much more open than when they had been speaking before. The formality dropped, brows furrowed in thought, expression earnest, Izm looked like a teenager in his father’s formal clothes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but I do know a little bit about you,” Izm laughed at Caleb’s skeptical expression. “Look, if you decided to kill me on your own, I would have been in several pieces in different parts of the ocean months ago. So, who’s holding you in check? Who blunted your fangs?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The northern idiom sounded strange in Izm’s mouth. Caleb ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. On one hand, he had no faith that Izm would actually do anything with his information. On the other, did it matter? Not much could make his situation worse. Spite won out in the end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The northern regent.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm’s brow furrowed, “Rire?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb returned a flat look. Obviously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, not like there’s anyone else. You got any proof we can use to start an investigation? He’s still a council member, and technically he’d take over in your absence,” Izm laughed and held up his hands defensively. “Whoa. That’s not on me, your dad appointed him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get him to take his fancy gloves off,” Caleb growled, shaking off the guard holding his right shoulder. The restraints made it nearly impossible, but he succeeded in showing off the cut across his palm before one guard was replaced by two. “Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh…” Izm tilted his head to the side. “That a northern tradition?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. This got out of hand...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Izm’s coronation moved forward despite the arrest of the northern lord and his retinue. The ordeal lasted through midnight, so Izm was well into eighteen by the time the ceremony was initiated, but he hadn’t died yet. That was a victory in his book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next several days were a whirlwind that even he could barely keep up with. Now, a week later, Izm finally had a spare hour of his own time. Even that had been hard won. Turns out there’s a lot to be done when a council member is ousted as an attempted murderer, and the ruler of a province is the accessory to treason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his eighteen years, Izm never had a reason to delve into the holding cells beneath the castle. The ancient stone understructure housed those awaiting the judgement of the council or king. There were no mosaics here, just old grey stone, thick mortar, and the smell of iron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Izm didn’t get a chance to prepare his speech in the last few days of chaos, though the idea had been percolating quietly since the issue of northern stewardship had been raised. But he had to ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His royal majesty graces me with his presence,” Caleb’s low croaking voice was more tired than insulting. But the jailor still puffed defensively until Izm waved him off. He could return to his post without worry, as the king’s bodyguard was still two steps behind him. Today he was well armored and just as visibly armed. Caleb’s acid green eyes watched him to the exclusion of Izm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got that out of your system?” Izm asked. He crossed his arms, donning an unimpressed look to disguise looking Caleb over carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thick bandages covered the man’s middle, keeping the packing in his lower back in place as the stab wound healed from the inside out. He was in the same clothes he wore when he was arrested, disregarding the tunic that had soaked with blood and the mail. The guards had allowed him to retain his mark of status, but at some point the iron circlet had been discarded next to the bed. Though, his status afforded him one of the nicer cells there was only so homey a cot and metal bars could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’re my men?” Caleb demanded, ignoring Izm’s question. His look finally flickered over to Izm, then away with an expression of disgust. He sat on his sparse bed, facing the opposite wall so he could bore a hole in the stone instead of Izm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re in a lower cell, the three of them. I’m assuming it was just the three?” Izm paused, but Caleb didn’t confirm or deny. “Right. Well, since they’ve pretty staunchly refused to talk to anyone but their own, I’ve got a friend of mine making sure they’re doing okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You catch him?” The subject of the question was obvious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Izm hadn’t planned on this being an interrogation, especially not one he was the subject of, but maybe it would smooth the way for his proposition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not exactly,” Izm sighed heavily and, after a glance back at .D, dropped to the floor to sit cross legged in front of the northerner. That got Caleb’s attention. If Izm didn’t know better he would think a look of concern flickered across his face. “Don’t worry, that doesn’t mean he’s in the clear. Half the country’s on the lookout for him, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s managed to cross a border by now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He ran,” Caleb’s lip curled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. Real quick,” Izm dipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the iron ring with its blue stone. The one that indicated the northern representative. “Looks like he was prepared before the coronation considering how hollowed out his quarters were. He’s not stupid, he knew the risk pulling you in, and I guess when things didn’t go as planned he didn’t want to rely on your loyalty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caleb made a sound of annoyance, air through teeth. His brow furrowed, glaring at the little circle of metal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, hey, good news is, we found enough correspondence that wasn’t burned or missing pointing to a fair bit of foul play in his position as regent. And one more crucial piece tying him to this mess…” Izm enjoyed the drama of revealing his pieces one by one. Which was good, because otherwise he might not be able to deal with the other feelings associated with pulling his father’s signet ring from his pocket. “See, I know you weren’t involved with this one. Since you were twelve.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn. Thought so,” Caleb muttered. His expression was unreadable, the same flat irritation that fit so naturally on his features he might have been born with it. But he wasn’t, he hadn’t worn the same face when Izm first met him. When he stood next to the man who was probably already conspiring to murder the royal family. Picking apart these pieces of their shared past, Izm was slowly figuring out how the boy he knew became the man in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The whole thing has been really enlightening about how much our parents just mutually fucked things up for both of us,” Izm said bluntly. Caleb’s brief look of surprise made him laugh. “What? It’s the truth, isn’t it? All these politics about resources and sovereignty and taxes. And when we might have had a chance to make things right somehow, Rire swooped in and took advantage of the wreck that was left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knock it off with this ‘we’ talk. My mess is not your mess,” Caleb growled, but there was so little venom in the words .D didn’t even flash him a warning look. It was unlikely he could really do anything behind the bars of his cell, but .D had refused to let Izm out of his sight while he visited the northerners. “Cut to the chase. What do you want with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...you don’t have a kid,” Izm halted for Caleb’s offended noise, then continued like nothing happened. “Anyway, that means there really isn’t an heir to the north. So, if something happens to you, like an extended jail sentence or gods forbid something more drastic, there’s going to be a huge power vacuum in the north. And to be blunt, with the shitshow going on there, this kingdom really can’t afford the turmoil of trying to replace you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caleb smirked, which was good. Izm hoped that impressing his importance would make this proposition less distasteful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to mention, apparently people up there like you. To hear your men tell it, there’s a lot of respect for you, something about that horrifying wolf pelt we’re keeping safe for you,” Izm slipped that piece in as suggested by Zeke. To the hunter’s credit, Caleb’s shoulders lowered a fraction. “Doing anything permanent about you would probably be the beginning of a civil war I don’t want to deal with and don’t think should happen. So, I’m here to deliver your sentence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caleb turned his full attention to him for the first time, and Izm drew himself up formally. As formal as he could be, sitting cross legged on the dusty stone floor. “Caleb Donahue, from this point forward, you will be sequestered to the capitol. You will take up the council space that your father abandoned. Your penance will be to assist me in rebuilding the crown’s relationship with the north, and their infrastructure so they can fully reintegrate into the kingdom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caleb let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m going to agree with that. How did you convince anyone to commute my sentence like that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, I’m king now. So it turns out I can just do that. Neat, huh?” Izm tapped the end of his index finger against the thicker, ruby encrusted circle on his head. He was still getting used to that, but he was ready to take full advantage of the authority it bestowed to fix things he found wrong. “Your mom can run things in the north right? You lot are all about women holding down the homestead, yeah? So I’m officially telling you to get your shit together and then you can have your province back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caleb stared at Izm for several moments like he couldn’t figure out what to make of him. That was basically the same look his friends had given him when Izm first broached the idea. But it was nothing compared to the council, there had been plenty of yelling and apoplexy and scandal. Izm let it go on for a while, then opened the floor for what he termed ‘any fucking better ideas’. Eventually, he had his consensus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever gets me out of this cell,” Caleb said finally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent,” Izm clapped his hands together, then placed them on the floor to push himself back up onto his feet. “I look forward to working with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t push your luck.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Epilogue - Look at the wonderful mess we made</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>.D found the king in the garden, alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was unusual. The past two weeks their little group had swelled to accommodate four additional members. Caleb’s entourage was more amenable to socializing than the northern lord himself, and the integration went ahead with only a few stutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To start with, having lived their entire lives in the north, even Izm was a touch exotic to the three of them. To say nothing of .D or Wei Ren. Unfussed by the stiff awkwardness, Ren brushed right past it like it didn’t exist. Killian responded happily enough to his offer of a remedy to fade the scar on his cheek. The mark hadn’t been well won, he explained, weaving in an apology for his part in the twisted mess. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The young northerner’s enthusiasm faded considerably when Ren began asking him about his experience with the paralytic. The probing started in the range of subtle and escalated in intensity from there. Meanwhile, Zeke had his hands full with Hayes and Doran. They had become acquainted with Zeke’s heritage while they were in prison, and spent several afternoons ‘assisting’ him in planning the hunt that would officially grant him manhood in the north. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your majesty,” .D was trying on the more formal address. That might make this easier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m putting a moratorium on that shit immediately,” Izm didn’t turn from where he stood, idly pruning imperfect leaves and wilted blooms from the wall of strawberry plants. They would bear fruit in the next month, and .D would be sorry to miss them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone has to clean those clothes, you know,” .D stepped up to Izm’s side, eyeing him critically. There was dirt under his fingernails, and smudges on his pants where he’d dusted the soil from his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, right,” Izm frowned down at the stains. There was a tiny graveyard of greenery at their feet following Izm’s path through the garden. He looked up, flashing .D a sheepish smile that turned inward thoughtfully. “It’s funny, walking around on my own, like I’m not about to get murdered. Still makes my shoulder blades itch.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There it was. Izm was thinking about it too. Hayes and Doran had left for home the day before, carrying news and an official proclamation with Izm’s signet pressed to the wax. They would convey to Lady Donahue that she was the current steward of the north while Caleb was occupied in the capitol. They both had families waiting for them, there was no reason for them to linger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no reason for .D to stay either. His packing was sparing, all that he needed to add were the gifts Izm had given him that he could carry on his own. He’d even considered whether he should try and return them, but he didn’t actually want to. They held things he wanted to remember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you don’t have anything to worry about now,” .D meant to be reassuring, but the look Izm gave him said he hadn’t been. Looking after Izm was a hard habit to break, and he had just continued doing so even when the immediate threat was neutralized. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t even stopped his much worse habit of sleeping in Izm’s bed, despite there being almost zero chance of an attack in the middle of the night. Maybe that’s why this was so hard. This was his longest contract, and it had definitely been the most physical. Which was incredibly stupid of him. He reminded himself every time he woke up with Izm’s arm around his middle and his tired morning breath against his cheek. When that had become nice, he had no idea. The thought of being twisted up with someone in such a mess you couldn’t tell where one stopped and the other began was never appealing. Until it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Izm turned and leaned up against one of the wooden beams that held the wall of greenery in place. He still had that thoughtful look. .D could only imagine that was dangerous. “What if something else happens? What if...Caleb tries to drown me in the harbor?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the one who signed on to work with him,” .D replied flatly. Izm’s new position put them facing each other, inches apart. Too close for the headspace .D was trying to maintain. “Just keep your mouth in check.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s gonna make me?” Half contrariness, half a challenge. That close lipped smile spelled trouble. It was softer on the edges than his jagged grin, his victorious smirk. But it was impossible to interpret. Anything could be hiding behind the curve of his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All this time and .D could only translate half of Izm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess you’re just going to have to learn,” .D replied awkwardly. He was dancing around his own goodbye, and Izm was dancing to a song he hadn’t heard before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if…” Izm’s fingers found their way between his somehow. “I have a different job for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What else can I possibly do for you?” .D laughed helplessly. He squeezed Izm’s hand, as if he could impress just how much he had done for Izm. More than anyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was thinking about giving you a permanent position.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doing…? Izm, you sound so suspicious.’’  Izm was pulling at his hands, tugging him closer, which was equally suspect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I’m sure we can find some kind of title,” As Izm continued, he guided .D’s hands to his  shoulders, and then around him in an embrace. “Royal Guard, Guardian of the Royal Person...Prince Consort~”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Izm.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hadn’t discussed continuing their...whatever this was. They both knew it was impossible. Or at least, .D thought they were on the same page.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay. Stay with me,” Izm’s voice finally dropped into a nervous break and .D saw that the inscrutable expression was just Izm being bare and open and unguarded for the first time. “Help me find an excuse to keep Zeke and Ren here too. We don’t have a Royal Family anymore. So I want you to be part of the new one I’m making.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm was serious. His voice was raw, and his expression solemn, and he was completely serious about finding a way to make this work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D had been keeping the strange twists of experimental emotions packed up to deal with when he was farther away from the source. But this realization sent them all spilling open. Izm’s fingers were twisted in his clothes, refusing to let him leave. The truth and earnestness in his expression, the love(?), was so sharp that it hurt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.D’s chest ached unbearably, like an axe had cracked open his sternum and all his most vulnerable pieces were exposed. But who else was he going to trust his most important parts to, if not Izm? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who else’s completely absurd plans was he going to just keep going along with, if not Izm? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” .D’s voice cracked, and he looked away, embarrassed. “But we’re going to have to workshop the title.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Izm practically threw himself on .D, smothering his cheeks and eyelids and definitely lips with kisses so enthusiastic they bordered on uncomfortable. But with each one, that ache in his chest eased until it was something warm and manageable. Something sweet and velvety and indulgent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fine. Who else was he going to fall for? If not Izm?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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